


Something wrong

by Redzik



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Hurt Stiles, Mentions of Sterek, Post Season 4, Scott is a Bad Friend, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Spark!Stiles, The Pack Being Idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:13:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 25,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4318395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redzik/pseuds/Redzik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something was wrong with him. Something other than dealing with possession and crushing guilt about the deaths he caused, worrying about his friends and father, worrying about supernatural threats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't see last episodes of season 4 and season 5 at all, so whatever I know or think I know, is thanks to the (un)reliable source that is Tumblr ;] Set after season 4.  
> It's a one-shot, but it can have one more chapter or two someday.
> 
> WARNINGS: Some swearing.
> 
>  **DISCLAIMER:** _I don't own Teen Wolf and it's characters._

Stiles threw himself on his bed and broke down. He couldn't take it any longer.

Something was wrong with him. Something other than dealing with possession and crushing guilt about the deaths he caused, worrying about his friends and father, worrying about supernatural threats. Something other than his mundane life with finishing school year to be a soon-to-be-adult and senior in high school with all the expected problems. Something other than his inability to sleep through the night without the nightmares plaguing him. Something other than his girlfriend leaving him and his friends busy with their own lives.

It was an itch, deep under his skin, that he was unable to scratch. And it was getting progressively stronger and harder to ignore. He wanted something, needed something, but couldn't figure out what it was.

The only thing keeping him going was his dad (unfortunately he had to work more shifts due to the shortage of people and new killing spree) and, surprisingly, Derek. Derek Hale, whom kept his promise. And wasn't that as much of a relief as it was embarrassing.

After they got back from Mexico and Derek announced he was leaving Beacon Hills, Stiles showed up at the loft, frightened and shaken because the fucker died!, and practically begged Derek to not disappear on them. Derek, as zen wolf as he became in this short time, let him rage and cry himself out. Then attempted to explain why he had to go and ultimately promised to keep in touch. Since he left he texted Stiles every day that he's alive and okay. Sometimes they even exchanged a couple of messages. He always made sure to warn Stiles, when he wouldn't be able to contact him and called immediately, when he got a chance to do so.

Now was one of those times. Derek had to go into hiding and wasn't able to contact Stiles for a few days now, which worried the teenager immensely.

Because of all of that he finally brought himself to call Scott and requested to meet him, hoping to talk and figure things out. Scott showed up at his house a few minutes later, all concerned and the wrongness in Stiles eased a fraction.

“Are you alright?” the True Alpha asked, looking him over, checking for injures. Just the day before Stiles was attacked by out of control Liam after the lacrosse practice.

“I'm fine,” Stiles sighed. “I just–”

“That's good,” Scott said over him. “I'm meeting with Kira in a few minutes so I have to go. Take care!”

Stiles stared after him in disbelief, betrayed and abandoned. Finally he found the strength to close the door and trudge to his room.

A few minutes into his pity party his phone vibrated with an incoming call. Stiles wiped the tears from his eyes and reached for the device. He checked the called ID and fumbled in a hurry to accept the call.

“Derek!” the teenager exclaimed in a shaky voice.

“Stiles,” the werewolf replied. “Are you okay?”

Stiles snorted a watery laugh, which ended in a sob.

“Actually no. I'm not okay. I haven't been okay in a long time. It's too much.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. I almost got killed yesterday, because Scott forgot his new puppy still has anger issues and can't control himself that well. I barely managed to distract Liam enough to make a run for it.”

“Were you hurt?” Derek asked in concern.

“No.”

“What Scott did about Liam?”

“I don't know. I didn't stay to get mauled for real. And today Liam apologized and Scott didn't seem to be worried at all.” Stiles sighed, “There's only a week of school left. Assuming I'll survive this long, I think I'll just go on a vacation trip. It would be nice to get away from all of that for a while.”

There was a moment of silence and then Derek cleared his throat.

“You can stay with me for the summer,” Derek offered. “If you want.”

Stiles pulled himself into a sitting position in surprise.

“Really?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” the werewolf confirmed. “I'm heading to New York right now. I have some things to take care of there. I was planning to come back to Beacon Hills after that, but we could stay as long as you want and return just before school started.”

“In New York?” Stiles checked to be sure, trying to contain his sudden excitement. He quickly counted his fingers as well.

“Yes,” Derek sounded slightly amused. As if he knew exactly what Stiles was doing.

“Dude, that's– that's awesome! I– I'd like that.”

“Don't call me dude,” the werewolf grumbled. “When your dad will be home?”

“Uh, around eight, I think?”

“I'll call at nine and we'll talk more about it with your dad, okay?”

“Okay.” Stiles smiled softly, “Thanks, Derek.”

“Take care, Stiles.”

The teenager flopped back onto the bed, grinning widely. Two months in New York with Derek Hale. He couldn't wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of keeping the timeline in the fic somewhat consisted: the beginning of this chapter happens on Wednesday; the end of the school is on Friday next week from that.

When the Sheriff got home all he could do was to keep blinking at his son, thinking he's hallucinating. The realization that he didn't see Stiles crack a smile in months was like a punch in the gut. He resolved right then and there to do anything to keep this Stiles.

Which was easier said than done, when he found out why his son was so excited.

It was just– New York was a big city, on the other side of the country and if they would get in trouble, and let's be honest here – those two didn't have a best record of staying out of it, no one would get there fast enough to help them. And he trusted Derek, he did!, he knew Derek was a good man and would take care of Stiles, he just... didn't trust Derek. For God's sake, just this morning the man was still hiding from something!

Still, the pros seemed to be outweighing the cons. Stiles seemed desperate enough to go. And God knows he was thinking of sending his son away from Beacon Hills and it's problems for a while himself.

After a long conversation with Derek the Sheriff still had doubts, but his main fears were addressed and talked out calmly.

The werewolf assured him, that all the danger was taken care of and nothing would come after him or Stiles unexpectedly. Nothing related to his escapades after he left Beacon Hills anyway. New York itself was fairly safe supernatural wise too. Cities this big were considered neutral territory and the only time the problems arise was when someone went looking for them. Derek also told him that his apartment had pretty good security system, but said almost nothing about the apartment itself. However he bought himself a few points for inviting the Sheriff along.

Regretfully, no matter how much John wanted, with the murders still happening he could barely spare a weekend for this trip. That pleased Stiles well enough.

They agreed, that the two of them fly over in a week, right after the school ended and Stiles and Derek would come back a few days before next school year started.

With the matters settled Stilinskis went to sleep.

When Sheriff checked on his son before he left for his morning shift, he wasn't surprised to see Stiles sprawled on his bed still with clothes on and the bag packed and ready by the door. He was surprised however when he stopped by the house in the afternoon on his brake to get some dinner and found Stiles in the kitchen, bandaging his arm.

“What happened?” he demanded and batted Stiles' hand away to look at the damage.

Two light scratches went diagonally across inside his left forearm. The wounds were nothing serious, certainly Stiles got worse scrapes than that in his life, but they were definitely made by a werewolf.

Stiles sighed heavily and the Sheriff noticed his haggard look, the happiness from yesterday gone as if it never happened.

“Just antagonized Liam a little,” the teenager murmured, going back to bandaging his arm. “He got angry and attacked me. Scott pulled me out of the way, but he accidentally scratched me. Ruined my shirt too. I liked it.”

“And why Scott isn't here with you helping you?” John frowned. “Where is he?”

Stiles shrugged.

“With Kira, probably. He was talking about their date all day, so I told him not to worry about me and go.”

The Sheriff sighed. It was just like Stiles to put others before himself. Even so he couldn't help to be a little angry at the Alpha for just leaving his injured son like that.

“Alright,” he came to a decision. “I have to go. Do you need anything?”

“Nah,” Stiles shook his head. “I'll finish here and then watch some movies.” He looked at the Sheriff challengingly, “Maybe I'll order pizza, all to myself.”

John snorted. If Stiles only knew.

“Have fun! Don't stay late!” the Sheriff called on his way out. He'll ate some take out instead home cooked meal to save time. He had a few calls to make.

To see elation on his son's face when he got back from school the next day and had been told they were leaving for the airport in half an hour was well worth the hassle and all-nighter the Sheriff pulled to sort matters for his short absence at work. The school wasn't a problem– Stiles had his final grades already and the attendance for the rest of semester was just a formality. Derek was ready for them whenever they wanted. He even went ahead and reserved them plane tickets, when John called him to let him know they're coming early. All in all, they were ready.

The Sheriff just hoped that New York would still be standing when Stiles and Derek were done with it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how airports or New York traffic work, so I'm taking what I know from movies and TV shows ;p

Stiles' excitement morphed into frustration during the flight. He was confined to his seat with minimal movement range and had nothing interesting to do. His father fell asleep as soon as the plane took off into the sky, so he didn't even had someone to talk at. The itch, which wouldn't leave him alone got worse. Still, despite that Stiles felt himself start to relax, finally putting more and more distance between himself and the dangers of Beacon Hills.

He fidgeted in his seat for over half an hour before admitting defeat and deciding to get some sleep too.

Finally in New York and free to move, Stiles couldn't stay still as they went through the airport check-in. The Sheriff just shuffled tiredly after him, sighing when the teenager was too hyper to stand patiently in the queue.

As soon as Stiles could, he bolted to the hall and scanned the crowd for a familiar face.

Derek spotted him first – damn werewolf's super senses – because he was already heading towards him. Stiles exclaimed happily and threw himself at Derek, who grunted in surprise, but didn't move away when the teenager snuggled closer with a contented purr.

Stiles just wanted to give him a quick hug. He really, really did. But when he touched the werewolf it felt so good, he didn't want to give it up just yet. He was alright now. With pack. And safe. And the wrongness went away.

The Sheriff walked to them, raising his eyebrows at the display. Derek was taken aback at first by the enthusiastic hug, but soon put his arms around Stiles awkwardly. Then he took a deep breath in what John knew was just an excuse to sniff his son and Derek's expression went from startled through confused in the end settling on a pissed off. The Sheriff frowned, not understanding what was happening. Derek met his eyes and pulled Stiles closer protectively.

Derek was angry, Stiles could tell even through the haze his mind settled into by how the werewolf tensed even more and his chest vibrated as he let out a subvocal growl. He contemplated pulling away, but Derek gently drew him in, encompassing him in yet more comfort, warmth and pack, safe, packsafepacksafepackpackpackpack, so Stiles figured that anger wasn't directed at him. Which was great, because the teenager decided to stay like this forever.

“Derek?” John asked in confusion.

The werewolf sighed, closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down. It wouldn't do to wolf out in the middle of a crowded area. He took a few seconds to collect himself and looked at the Sheriff.

“Not here,” Derek said shaking his head. “Later.”

He turned his attention to the teenager in his arms and carefully started to push him away. If Stiles zone out even more, then there was no way they would get out of the airport without drawing any attention to themselves.

Stiles made a protesting noise, trying to cling to him and blinked at him slowly in a daze.

“Shh, it's okay,” Derek soothed. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Derek pulled completely away, making a point to leave his hands on teenagers' shoulders.

“Derek,” Stiles whined and reached for him again.

“No,” the werewolf held him back. “Not yet. In a little while. When we get to the apartment. Can you hold on until then?”

“If I must,” Stiles sighed heavily.

“Just until we get to the apartment,” Derek promised. “Now, let's help your dad with the bags.”

“Mmhmm,” the teenager hummed, rubbing his eyes. He turned to the Sheriff a little more awake and aware of his surroundings.

Stiles wanted to kick himself. He shouldn't touch Derek in the first place, because now the itch was back even worse than before. And he missed the warmth and safety and packpackpack somewhat fiercely.

John suspiciously held out the luggage. Stiles took the smaller bags, while Derek hauled their suitcases.

“You have a car or we're taking a taxi?” the teenager asked as they made their way toward the exit.

“Car,” Derek answered. “During the day taxi may be a better choice, but at night the roads are almost empty.”

“Night?” Stiles blinked.

“It's almost one in the morning,” the werewolf informed in amusement.

“Oh, right,” Stiles nodded. “Time difference.”

“Time difference or not,” the Sheriff yawned. “I'm beat. How far is that apartment of yours?”

“About forty minutes.”

Stiles groaned.


	4. Chapter 4

During the ride Derek told them what he was getting up to in the time he was away from Beacon Hills. It wasn't like Stiles didn't know most of it anyway, but hearing Derek's voice helped him to settle down, sooth the itching slowly overtaking him. Judging by how the werewolf kept glancing at him in the rear mirror, Derek was very well aware of that. And wasn't that curious? Clearly Derek knew what was going on, but refused to talk about it, insisting they should rest first. Stiles and the Sheriff couldn't argue with that, so they dropped the matter for the time being. Surely Derek would tell them if it was life threatening. Right?

“It's not dangerous, is it?” Stiles couldn't help but blurt out in the middle of Derek's story.

Derek fell silent, the steering wheel creaking under his grip.

The Sheriff looked at him sharply.

“Derek–“ John started warningly.

“It has a potential to be, yes,” the werewolf gritted out. He met Stiles' eyes in the mirror with his own glowing blue, “But it's not. Not anymore. Not with the way you responded to me.”

“Oh,” Stiles whispered.

But the Sheriff wasn't so convinced.

“How can you be sure?” he pressed.

“Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation,” Derek smirked, relaxing into his seat. “Like I said, we'll talk about it in the morning, when you're both not ready to drop dead from exhaustion.”

There was a beat of tense silence.

“So,” the teenager prompted. “Did you win that fight?”

Derek growled indignantly and resumed telling his story.

When the werewolf finally slowed down and took a turn into the parking lot, Stiles wasn't expecting it to be under the tall, expensive looking, apartment building. They stopped briefly before the gate, where Derek swept a card through the reader.

They silently unloaded the trunk and Derek led them to the guard booth near the elevator.

“Evening, Jeff,” the werewolf greeted, handing him his card. “Anything interesting?”

“All quiet, Mr. Hale,” the guard answered. “That your guests?”

“Yes, John and Stiles Stilinski,” Derek made the introductions. “Do you have their passes here or we'll need to stop by in reception?”

“Right here,” Jeff took two cards lying on the side and swept them through the reader as he had done with Derek's. “All set,” he announced, handing them the passes.

“Thank you,” the werewolf moved to the elevator. “Good night!”

“'Night,” the guard replied.

The Sheriff and Stiles mumbled their goodbyes and hurried after Derek to the lift.

“Dude,” Stiles breathed once they were in. “When you said 'apartment' I thought it would be something like the loft in a rundown part of the city. Not,” he waved his hand around, “this.”

Derek raised his eyebrow, choosing the top floor and handed them their cards, “It's your pass to the building and apartment. Don't loose them.”

“They're for a permanent residents,” Stiles stated after he inspected both passes.

Derek shrugged.

“You will be living here about two months,” he reminded. “It'll be easer for your dad to have one too just in case.”

“Dude, what?” the teenager flailed. “The rent alone must be ungodly high!”

“I own the building,” Derek stated in a deadpan voice.

The Sheriff raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Stiles' mouth dropped open in shock.

“Yo– You're joking!” the teenager stammered.

Derek smirked.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But I do actually own an apartment here.”

“Dude, what even,” Stiles shook his head helplessly.

The elevator stopped and the door slid open with a quiet ding revealing a short corridor ended with a wooden door. Next to them was a keypad with a reader.

“Reinforced with steel,” Derek supplied as he spied disapproving look the Sheriff gave the door. He moved forward, used his card again and typed a code. The door buzzed and Derek pushed it open.

“Welcome to New York.”


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles dropped the bags he was carrying and stared.

Te apartment was similar to the loft, a little smaller, but brighter, warmer and welcoming. It also had a lot more furniture and stuff. The wall across the door was made almost entirely from windows, from floor to ceiling high. The blinds were pulled up, so the night sky and a part of the city were visible.

Immediately to the right from the door, in the space created by the stairs leading upstairs, was a place for coats and shoes. Behind the stairs, along the right wall stood a few shelves filled with books and knick-knacks. Just before them were placed three armchairs in a half circle and a table, creating a cozy corner for submerging oneself in a lecture.

By the left wall in the center was a TV cabinet and above it hung a 48-inch TV. On the sides, near the walls were entrances, leading further into the apartment. Before the TV, approximately a recommended distance away was a coffee table. Just beyond that stood a huge – five people could sit on it and still have some space – comfortably looking couch, flanked by two equally comfortable armchairs. The view complemented plants placed in a various places across the room.

“Dude,” Stiles whispered in awe. “Are you sure you live here?”

Derek sighed, placing the suitcases and bags out of the way under the stairs.

“Laura wanted us to be comfortable,” he explained. “It was her idea to buy this apartment.”

“It's awesome!” Stiles said quickly, feeling bad for bringing Laura up. “We don't have to stay here, you know,” he offered. He didn't want to intrude in the space, where Derek had so many memories and surely still could smell his sister. “A hotel would do or–”

“Stiles,” the werewolf interrupted him, giving him a soft look. “It's okay. This apartment was one of the things I had to take care of. I already packed all the stuff I wanted and they're ready to be shipped to Beacon Hills. Besides I wouldn't brought you here, if I wasn't okay with you being here.”

“But are you okay being here?” the Sheriff asked before Stiles could.

Derek blinked, surprised at the question.

“Yeah,” he finally replied with a small smile. “I'm okay.”

“Good,” John looked satisfied. “So, where is what?”

“Through there is a kitchen, toilet and storage room,” Derek explained, gesturing at the entrance on the left. “Bathroom is upstairs, first door on the left. Towels are in the cupboard near the washing machine. Oh, do you want something to eat or drink?”

“That's alright,” the Sheriff moved to his bag and rummaged through it for his things, while Stiles went to investigate the room. “I'm just gonna take a shower and then hit the sack.”

“Okay,” Derek nodded. “We'll sort the baggage in the morning. Let me know, if you need anything.”

The Sheriff replied in affirmative and went upstairs.

Derek turned to the door and locked it.

“Can you turn off the lights?” Stiles requested, stopping by the window. Derek did and he spend a few minutes admiring the city. “Great view.”

“Not so great when the sun is shining you straight in the face in the morning,” the werewolf flicked the lights back on. “Are you sure you don't want anything?”

“No,” the teenager shook his head. “Like dad said, shower and sleep.” And the itching to fucking go away.

“Alright,” Derek nodded. “Why won't you get ready? Your dad is almost done.”

“Freaking werewolf senses,” Stiles muttered under his breath, heading to the bags to pull his things out. Derek's chuckling followed him upstairs.

When the Sheriff got back down, the blinds on the windows were pulled down and Derek was unfolding the gigantic couch, which was now further away from the table than before.

“I guess I should have asked about sleeping arrangements,” John observed, pushing his hand through his damp hair.

“Puppy pile,” Derek smirked at him.

“Puppy pile,” the Sheriff echoed, staring at him.

“Puppy pile,” the werewolf confirmed, nodding.

“Right.”

“It will help Stiles,” Derek pointed out.

The Sheriff sighed tiredly, “Right.”

Derek wandered upstairs a few times, coming back with clean sheets, quilts, pillows and blankets. Then he helped the Sheriff to make a bed and they both got ready to sleep. Derek turned off the main lights, leaving only light on the stairs and a lamp, which he placed beside the couch.

“This is weird,” John stated, reluctantly laying down on the left side of the couch.

“My family used to do that often,” Derek shared, settling on the right side. “Especially when someone got hurt or something.”

“Must have been nice.”

“It was.”

After a few minutes Stiles came downstairs. He made a pleased noise when he spotted them and practically bowled over his father, the Sheriff gasping and groaning as Stiles crawled on him, to get to the center of the bed. Derek chuckled, the bastard safe on his side. The teenager pouted at him.

“You're too far.”

“Am I now?” the werewolf teased, shifting closer.

Stiles hooked his elbow through John's arm and reached for Derek's but he pulled away.

“Just let me turn off the lamp,” Derek soothed, when the teenager whined at the loss.

A few seconds later Stiles had Derek's arm hooked as well. Content, he planted himself on his stomach, wriggling to get more comfortable and pushed his face into Derek's neck. He felt Derek throw a blanket over him and he sighed happily. Wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and safety he fell asleep.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where this conversation came from.  
> Thank you for the reviews :)

John only woke up, because his son turned into a five year old overnight and decided to jump on him.

“Rise and shine,” Stiles chirped, grinning into his face. “The day is wasting away!”

“I'm gonna kill you,” John mumbled.

“Come on,” Stiles rolled off the couch, taking the blankets with him. “Derek is making pancakes! That's a one in a million sight! And there's coffee.”

“I'm up, I'm up,” the Sheriff said quickly when he realized the teenager was preparing for another assault.

He sat up under the suspicious gaze of his son and rubbed at his face, sighing in defeat. Stiles took that as a sign of the Sheriff not going back to sleep and went back to the kitchen.

John scooted to the table and checked the time on his phone. It was 9 am. He got seven hours of sleep. Not too bad, considering he felt well rested. He got up, stretched and toured a bit, looking for a restroom. Done with his business, he made his way to the kitchen.

It wasn't very big, considering the size of the apartment as a whole, but it was spacious and comfortable for a person preparing meals. The space was divided by a counter, with two round chairs, on which one sat Stiles watching as the werewolf piled pancakes on two plates.

“Good morning,” Derek said, not even looking away from what he was doing.

“Morning,” the Sheriff greeted and yawned. “I was promised coffee.”

Derek gestured toward a pot of freshly brewed coffee standing on the counter behind Stiles. There was also a mug ready for him.

John took the coffee and made an appreciative noise at the taste. This was the good kind.

The Sheriff took a seat and Derek placed one plate before him, the other before Stiles. John frowned.

“Aren't you eating?” he asked.

“I already did,” the werewolf replied in amusement.

“Yeah,” Stiles stabbed his fork into the food resentfully. “He got up at six in the morning to go on a freaking run.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, “Maybe I would sleep longer if someone didn't snore so loudly.”

“I did not snore!” Stiles protested indignantly.

“I'm really surprised, Sheriff, that you could sleep through that noise,” Derek continued.

Stiles made an outraged noise and lunged across the counter at the werewolf.

Derek laughed, taking a step back to remove himself from the reaching range.

After a few seconds of wriggling uselessly to eliminate that bit of a distance between them simultaneously avoiding dumping his breakfast on the floor, Stiles slumped with a disappointed whine. Derek rolled his eyes and reached to ruffle teenager's hair.

“Eat your breakfast,” the werewolf ordered.

The Sheriff expected Stiles to flail and fight back, but instead his son pushed into Derek's touch, tilting his head very canine like when he started scratching lightly.

Abruptly all the pieces came together: the weird behavior, the impromptu puppy pile, Derek knowing right away what was wrong; and John choked on his coffee drawing their attention to himself.

“Did you get bitten?” he rasped out through his coughing fit.

Derek snorted.

“What?” Stiles asked, staring at his father with wide eyes.

“Or because Scott scratched you?”

“I'm not a werewolf, dad,” Stiles flailed wildly. “Why would you think that?”

“It's just– With all the,” the Sheriff waved his hand at them meaningfully. His son wasn't a supernatural creature, what a relief, but that left only one alternative. Worse than Stiles being a werewolf.

“He does behave like a wolf a little, doesn't he?” Derek smirked. “Don't worry, he's all human. It's just something he picked up from being with the pack. Mostly.”

John thought it over for a moment and looked Derek in the eyes.

“In that case, I don't think I'm comfortable leaving my son with you alone,” he stated seriously.

There was silence as Derek and Stiles looked at him in confusion. Then realization struck.

“I win,” Stiles declared, lifting his hand, palm up, in Derek's direction.

The werewolf sighed, pulled wallet out of his pocket, fished out a twenty and slapped it into Stiles' outstretched hand.

“What?” the Sheriff said faintly.

Stiles shrugged, pocketing the money.

“We're way ahead of you, dad. We're not together. And even if we were,” here the teenager glared at Derek, “he wouldn't do anything until I'm eighteen.”

“Besides,” the werewolf added, “Stiles is not in the right place right now to even think about a relationship, let alone start one. Now Stiles' physical and mental wellbeing takes priority, so we decided to wait and see what happens then.”

“When did this happen?” the Sheriff mumbled in shock.

“He did get up at six in the morning,” Stiles reminded.

“I told you, you didn't have to get up,” Derek grumbled.

“I couldn't sleep without you.”

“Okay!” the Sheriff interrupted. He so didn't want to hear that. “If you're not together and Stiles isn't a werewolf, then what is all of this about?”

“Ah, yes,” Derek nodded. “Let's talk about that.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry.

“After you finish eating,” Derek added.

Stiles dug in, but the Sheriff opened his mouth to protest.

“We _will_ have this talk,” the werewolf stressed firmly. “It's too important not to. I just think it would be better, if you will be fully awake and there won't be any distractions.”

John grumbled, but went to eating.

“It's good,” he said as he swallowed his first bite.

“Thank you,” Derek smiled.

“It's divine,” Stiles asserted.

The werewolf huffed softly, his smile widening a fraction and ruffled Stiles' hair again. The teenager happily went back to eating.

“Why didn't you eat with Derek earlier?” John asked curiously.

“Oh, I did,” Stiles grinned. “There is never enough of perfection, though.”

“Mhmm,” the Sheriff continued to eat in silence.

Stiles kept singing praises and each time the werewolf petted his head. After a few times John started to suspect, that his son was doing that deliberately just to get head rubs. A quick look at Derek and his fond, if somewhat exasperated expression, the Sheriff was sure the werewolf was well aware of what Stiles was doing. And kept humoring him nonetheless.

John shook his head at the two and focused on his food.

In just one night Derek has his son eating double breakfast, where in the past few months he didn't had much of an appetite; has him being happy, cheery self. It was too good to be true.

Once the breakfast was eaten, kitchen cleaned up, the couch folded up and the pillows and blankets put away, they sat to talk.

Stiles stretched out lazily on the couch. Derek took one of the armchairs and the Sheriff the second one across him.

“Well?” John prompted after a minute of silence.

“Why won't Stiles tell us what's wrong first,” Derek proposed.

“I don't know what's wrong!” the teenager protested. “That's why we're having this conversation!”

“Tell us what you know,” Derek insisted.

Stiles huffed.

“Well, all I know is that it's not one of my usual problems, you know – the school, the supernatural, my life, the Nogitsune. It's a feeling, an itch like I miss– no, like I need, want something. I think it started when Malia broke up with me? It got slightly better when I was with the pack, but lately even that wasn't helping and we saw each other less and less. Even you, dad. You were always busy at the station.”

The Sheriff looked guilty.

“I'm sorry, but we have too little people to cover all the shifts,” John explained. “And those killings–“

“I know, dad,” Stiles sighed. “I just wish we could spend more time together.”

“Me too,” John nodded. “Believe me kid, me too.”

Stiles smiled slightly at his father.

“Anyway,” the teenager continued. “That's about it until we got here. Derek was– is all warm and safe and makes me calm. He makes this wrong feeling go away. Not entirely, mind you, but enough for it to be barely noticeable, when he's not near.” He frowned, “At least now, because yesterday it wasn't like that.”

“The puppy pile helped you with that,” the werewolf chimed in. “It's also why you're slightly high on happiness now.”

“Puppy pile, huh?” Stiles smirked.

“I knew it was something wrong with all that cheeriness!” the Sheriff exclaimed. “It's not real!”

“It's not wrong,” Derek calmed him. “And very real. Tell me, Sheriff, don't you feel better? Well rested?”

John glared, but couldn't argue with the fact that he indeed slept better than he had in a long time.

“That's what puppy pile does,” Derek continued. “It calms, helps to heal and generally makes person feel better. When we've met at the airport, Stiles smelled of pain, distress, loneliness and desperation. He barely smelt like Scott's pack, too. You yourself, Sheriff, weren't that much better. You were stressed and tired.” Derek shrugged, “So the puppy pile was a logical choice.”

“Dude, I think I love you,” Stiles breathed, looking at him in adoration.

“I love you too,” Derek replied easily and quickly added, “In a platonic, friendly way.”

The Sheriff snorted, “Who do you think you're kidding?”

Derek narrowed his eyes, “Eighteen.”

“Actually,” Stiles said with glee. “The age of consent in New York is seventeen.”

“Jesus Christ!” John yelled, jumping to his feet.

“Stiles!” Derek growled at the same time, scowling at the teenager.

“Jeez,” Stiles sat up, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I'm just messing with you, calm down. We had this conversation already. I want to get better first.”

“And I want to help you in any way I can. Like pack should,” the werewolf said. “That includes explaining the situation.” He looked at the Sheriff, “Why won't we get on that?”

John took a couple breaths to calm down, and sat back down.

“Alright,” he allowed. “But one more innuendo and Stiles is coming home with me.”

“Dad!” Stiles protested.

“I mean it,” the Sheriff said firmly. Then he leaned forward and rested his face in his palms, sighing, “God, I need a drink.”

“Sorry,” Derek apologized. “Don't have any alcohol.”

John waved him off, “Just– Start talking.”

Derek paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and then opened his mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Talk is finally here! It's mostly Derek's monologue.  
> Enjoy!

“Obviously, I don't know what really happened, so a lot of it is just guesses. Possibilities that could end putting Stiles in a situation he found himself in now.” Derek hummed thoughtfully, “You know werewolf pack hierarchy, right?”

“Alpha, Beta, Omega,” Stiles supplied.

The Sheriff nodded along.

“That's generally it,” Derek confirmed. “The Alpha is the strong one, a leader of the pack and she or he gain power from Betas. The Alpha is also the only werewolf, who can turn someone. The Alpha takes care of their pack, protects them, provides for them. Betas make the pack. They're attuned to their Alpha and follow she or him. Without them the pack doesn't exist and the Alpha is weak. Omegas are usually wolves without a pack for one reason or another. When in pack, they are on the outskirts, shunned aside, not entirely unwelcome but not welcome either. In some packs there are cases of abusing Omegas. They are the weakest wolves, have less control and are unstable without a pack, which is why they are the most likely ones to go feral.

Now, Stiles... Stiles always was stubborn. He challenged everyone and everything. He pushed, he pulled, he helped us and he took care of us. With his loyalty he earned himself a place as a high ranking member of the pack.”

Stiles preened.

“He was always close to Scott,” Derek continued, rolling his eyes at the smugness the teenager was radiating. “They did everything together, helped one another, are like brothers. That automatically placed him in the same rank in Scott's pack.

And no, that doesn't mean he was second in command. Not like that. The second is a Beta who takes charge in case the Alpha is not around and even they would defer to him. Stiles was not a Beta, still he wasn't an Alpha either. Him being in that position in the pack was unusual, because it was traditionally reserved for, and it's not an innuendo, an Alpha's mate. A position, which allowed him to boss even an Alpha, sometimes.”

Derek stopped to drink some of his coffee, which Stiles took advantage off.

“I could boss you around? Why nobody ever told me that?” he complained.

“You boss Scott all the time,” the werewolf answered.

“It's not the same. I bossed Scott since forever.”

“Though,” Derek shrugged and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked at Stiles seriously, “I'm sorry, but now I need to talk about the Nogitsune a bit. And I need you to listen to me.”

Stiles slumped, hunching into himself. The guilt and grief clouded his scent.

“Okay,” the teenager whispered.

“What the Nogitsune did wasn't your fault,” the Sheriff hurried to reassure his son.

“No one blames you,” Derek added. “In fact, the only person who blames you is you. Just like I blame myself for what happened to my family, to Erica, to Boyd. Just like Jackson blames himself for what he did as kanima. Do you think it was mine and Jackson's fault that all of these people died?”

“Of course not!” Stiles denied. “Kate lied to you, the Alphas killed Erica and made you kill Boyd. And Jackson was controlled by Matt, then Gerard.“

“And you were controlled by the Nogitsune, how's that different?”

Stiles made to answer, but paused, a thoughtful expression blooming on his face.

“That's something for you to think about later,” Derek smiled slightly. “Back to the Nogitsune. When you split, it kept your body. You were connected, because a body couldn't live without a soul. But the connection was draining you, your spark strained to keep both of you alive. Scott bit it and you killed it. The connection was severed and your spark gave you back all the Nogitsune took. With something extra.”

Both, John and Stiles looked scared.

“You see, wolves and foxes are pack animals. We need touch, we need affection, we need attention, especially when we're hurting. It's instinct to get that from the pack. You all were hurt and grieving and you all instinctively reached to each other. You touched the pack more, you spend more time with them. I thought it was because you picked that from the pack and because of what happened to you. And it was, but it made me wonder. I talked to Deaton. Asked if somehow bits of foxiness or wolfishness could be transferred to you as the connection broke. Deaton said if it even could, it would just be some instincts, nothing major, but it was highly unlikely to happen. Now, I'm not so sure.

“Why didn't I know about this?” the Sheriff demanded looking at them disapprovingly.

“You're not the only one,” Stiles scoffed.

Derek stared at them in surprise.

“Scott didn't tell you about that?”

“Scott knew?!” the teenager cried.

“He was there, when I talked to Deaton. I assumed he told you.”

“Well, he didn't,” Stiles growled angrily. Fucking Scott!

Derek sighed heavily, muttering something under his nose.

“Anyway,” the werewolf picked up his explanation after a moment. “Everything seemed fine. Until apparently something happened. I don't know what. Maybe Scott felt you threatened Kira's position as his mate or something. They made you an Omega,” here Derek growled, flashing his eyes in anger. “It shows with the way Liam kept attacking you, whereas earlier he could control himself. Liam is the newest wolf and your change of a position in the pack disrupted the pack's stability, which made him loose control. And Scott scratched you. It could be an honest accident or beginning of something more than just ignoring you. The pack pulled away from you, too. That I know, because you didn't smell like you spend time with them recently. The pack is made from a bunch of idiotic, hormonal teenagers, so it's hard to tell, if they did it intentionally or even realized what they did.

Nevertheless such a change is a hard transition to adjust, even for a human. Especially for you, because you still need to be close to the pack and your enhanced instinct to do so just makes it worse. This is what is wrong. You need affection and stability. You need to feel safe and protected. You need your pack. And they pushed you aside. This is on them, intentional or not, because there is no way you would avoid them for long with that itch, no matter how stubborn you can be. Just look at what happened at the airport. If I let you keep at it for a while longer, there would be no way for me to get you off of me.”

“But you said it's good,” the Sheriff observed, “that he reacted that way to you.”

“Yeah. Like we established, his degradation to Omega could be dangerous to him, because the abuse from the pack. There is also a possibility, that he would eventually got angry and enacted a vicious revenge on the pack. Or he could succumb to guilt and depression. Since Stiles reacted positively to my presence, all I'm worried about is the possibility of abuse. Though, just doing that to him is abuse in itself.”

“But,” the Sheriff frowned. “Aren't you supposed to see him as Omega, too? Since the pack decided so?”

Derek looked at the silent teenager and shook his head.

“Stiles is a member of my pack, but I never really was in Scott's pack. Besides I'm a born wolf. I have a lot more experience in how the pack works than them.”

“Well then, what should we do about it?” John asked.

“That depends on what Stiles wants. Like I said, he can stay with me in New York for the summer. We could work on his issues or at least let him recharge away from them. During that time they may realize what they did. If not, we'll deal with them.”

“Stiles?” the Sheriff prompted.

“I want to stay with Derek,” Stiles said quietly.

“Okay,” John sighed. “Okay. But no more innuendos while I'm here.”

“Sure,” Stiles chirped, suddenly cheery again.

“So, Sheriff,” the werewolf drawled. “What do you want to do while you're here?”

“What?” Stiles pouted. “What about what I want to do while I'm here?”

Derek rolled his eyes.

“Your dad is returning back to Beacon Hills tomorrow evening, Stiles, so I figured we should let him decide.”

“Huh,” the teenager blinked. “That's fair.”


	9. Chapter 9

The Sheriff was home for two weeks, when the pack remembered, that Stiles exists.

Despite the situation with his son and only two days he had in New York, he really enjoyed the time he spend there. After their talk they went to New York City Police Museum and then to Statue of Liberty. By the time they were finished it was getting a little late so Derek took them to Chinatown for dinner. It was 10 pm when they finally made it back to the apartment. Derek offered them use of the two bedrooms upstairs, while he would take the couch, to which Stiles vehemently refused. A big, comfortable bed with big TV in front of it? Yeah. It was a dream come true for the teenager and he wasn't to be persuaded otherwise. In the end they left him to watch a little outdated movies from Derek's collection of dvd's and went to sleep. The next day went similar – they toured the city until it was time for the Sheriff to leave. John gave Derek stern talking to, reminding him that Stiles was still underage, to which Stiles reminded the Sheriff he was seventeen in New York. The werewolf just eyed the flight schedule, calculating his chances of vanishing unnoticed for forever. Then there were heartfelt goodbyes and promises to behave and to stay out of trouble and the Sheriff was flying home.

John was enjoying a bit of a down time after they successfully closed the serial killer case. The department gained two new officers a few days ago, so the shift schedule went almost back to normal. They still could use one or two more people, but it was much better than before.

He was putting the leftover pizza into the fridge, when someone knocked. He went to answer the door and was surprised to see Scott, Kira and Lydia on his porch.

“Can I help you?” John asked politely, restraining himself from showing any anger he had for them.

“Hi, Mr. Stilinski,” Scott grinned. “We're here for Stiles.”

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow.

“He's not here,” he informed. A truth without giving anything away.

Stiles asked him to keep from the pack where he was. He even went as far as buying a burner phone. After updating contact lists in Derek's and his new cell, he switched off his usual phone and gave it to the Sheriff to take with him back to Beacon Hills just in case.

“Oh,” Scott stopped grinning and frowned. “Where is he?”

“I don't know,” John shrugged. Again it was the truth – he didn't know where in New York his son currently was.

“When is he coming back?” Lydia asked.

“He didn't say exactly,” the Sheriff shrugged again. Stiles could decide to come home even tomorrow and Derek would bring him back.

By now Scott was eying him suspiciously.

“Is he okay?” the Alpha wanted to know.

John sighed.

“Besides the usual?” he guessed. “Yes, he's fine.”

“Oh, okay,” Scott nodded. “Well, we're be going then. Thanks. And, uh, can you tell Stiles to look up water monsters for me?”

“Why?” the Sheriff demanded. “Is there something supernatural?”

“No, no,” Scott quickly reassured. “It's just that we decided to learn the basics on the monsters during the pack meetings and tomorrow I want to cover water creatures.”

“Excellent idea,” John nodded. “I'll let him know, but I suggest you do the research by yourself in case Stiles won't make it.”

“Oh, I'm sure he will,” Lydia said. “He lives for research.”

“Yeah,” Scott smiled. “Tell him to just e-mail it to me. He doesn't need to come to the meeting if he's busy with something else.”

“Sure,” the Sheriff almost growled.

“Well, that will be all,” Scott concluded. “Thank you, again. Goodbye, Mr. Stillinski.”

“Goodbye, Sheriff,” Lydia and Kira echoed.

“Bye,” John gritted out and slammed the door shut.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a jumbled mess...

The pack meeting came and went without the research Scott requested.

The young Alpha checked his phone every few minutes for notification about a new e-mail or a message, but it was stubbornly silent through the whole meeting. Finally he tossed the phone on the table and huffed out an angry breath. An hour. A whole hour and nothing.

“Maybe he really has something else to do, like Sheriff said,” Kira ventured hesitantly from her position on the couch, watching as Scott paced in frustration.

“Like what?” Malia grumbled from where she was sprawled on the floor, completely bored with waiting. “He spends all his time in school or with us.”

“Apparently not,” Liam snorted, munching on chips. “When did you last see him anyway?”

“I–“ Scott started and stopped, thinking. When was the last time he had seen Stiles?

He looked at the rest of the pack, noting they also had startled looks on their faces.

“He was at school on the last day to get his certificate, right?” the Alpha asked hopefully.

Lydia shook her head, pursuing her lips.

“I haven't seen him there,” she stated.

“Me neither,” Kira added.

“Actually,” Liam said with a frown, thinking hard. “The last time I saw him was when I attacked him. No, wait! The next day, too. I wanted to apologize, again, but he was avoiding me.”

“That was like what?” Lydia asked. “A week before the school ended?”

Liam shrugged.

“Something like that?”

“And no one saw him ever since?” Scott demanded in a worry.

They shook their heads. How they didn't notice that the usually loud and annoying teenager wasn't hanging out with them anymore?

Scott swore and dove for his phone. He shoot a text to his friend and waited. Two weeks. Nobody saw Stiles for two weeks.

“We can always ask the Sheriff,” Malia reasoned.

“No,” the Alpha decided. “I don't want to worry him. Besides he was acting kinda strange.”

“He seemed normal to me,” Kira frowned.

“Scott is right,” Lydia said. “He just answered our questions, didn't add a comment or two as usual. There's something wrong. Was he even telling the truth about Stiles?”

“Yeah,” Scott nodded.

He looked down at his phone. No reply. The Alpha sighed and dialed. And dialed again. And again.

“What?” he looked at his phone in disbelief.

“What's wrong?” Lydia immediately wanted to know.

“It goes straight to voice mail.”

“Maybe he just doesn't want to be disturbed and switched it off,” Kira tried to calm them down.

“No,” Scott protested. “Stiles always keeps his phone on in case of an emergency. Something must have happened to him."

“We can ask the Sheriff,” Malia repeated.

“I'll try to track his phone,” Lydia decided, reaching for her laptop.

There was tense silence while she worked.

“Last known location...” the banshee frowned at the display. “Stiles' house, over a week ago.”

“See?” Scott cried. “Something is not right! Even if he switched off his phone, he wouldn't leave it turned off for that long!”

“Well, maybe Malia is right,” Kira piped in. “We should ask the Sheriff.”

“But what if he's involved in all of this?” the Alpha countered.

“What do you mean?” Lydia snorted. “That the Sheriff kidnapped his own son and keeps him hostage?”

“Well, we did fought that shapeshifter a week ago,” Scott pointed out. “And it knew some things about us, that no one knows besides the member of this pack. Maybe it wasn't the only one. Maybe there was a group of them and they got to Stiles and the Sheriff. Maybe they took Stiles for information on our pack and threatened the Sheriff to hurt him, if he say anything to someone. Or one of them impersonated the Sheriff.”

“He seemed to be kind of shifty,” Lydia conceded thoughtfully. “But what about his scent? Was it changed somehow?”

Scott shook his head.

“No, but you know I couldn't tell before either.”

“Great,” Liam complained. “More weird Voodoo to do.”

“I'll go tomorrow and check the house,” Scott decided. “You'll go to Deaton and tell him to prepare more of that potion.”

“Now, that we have a plan,” Malia said, “can we watch something?”

“Um,” Scott hesitated, but Kira send him a shy smile and he shrugged. They couldn't do anything until the next day anyway. “Sure, pick something.”

They all drifted closer during the movie, drawn together by the worry for their friend. They ended on the couch in a mess of limbs. Their anxiety soothed by the presence of the others and the knowledge, that they had a plan and start looking for Stiles tomorrow. The pack warm and content and whole fell asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Scott waited in the bushes on the other side of the street until the Sheriff left for his morning shift to sneak into the house using the back door. Nobody else was inside and the Alpha was disappointed. He half expected that Stiles would be sulking because one thing or the other. Would just throw a temper tantrum and Scott would apologize for whatever he did to appease him and that would be it. But no. Stiles wasn't in the house. In fact he wasn't in the house for some time. His scent was stale, old, began to fade.

A quick search through Stiles' room revealed nothing new. It was just slightly cleaner. Stiles' laptop, phone and textbooks were lying on his desk neatly. Dirty clothes normally strewn across the room were in one pile by the door. Any leftovers and food wrappers were cleaned up. The bed was made. And nothing was used by their owner in a while. Scott could smell that the Sheriff was in the room recently, sure. But Stiles wasn't.

His suspicions confirmed, Scott left the house and headed to Deaton, where the pack was waiting for him. On the way he tried not to think about the torture his friend had to be put through. Because the shapeshifters had to torture him, otherwise Stiles wouldn't tell them anything about the pack. Two weeks. Scott shuddered. They were oblivious for two weeks during which Stiles suffered.

The Alpha went into the clinic and headed to the back room, where he heard his pack talking.

“Well?” Lydia asked expectantly as soon as she spotted him.

Scott growled, flashing his eyes in agitation.

“We were right,” he declared. “Stiles has been taken by shapeshifters.”

Deaton stilled in the middle of filling vials with a potion specifically designed to weaken the shapeshifters and force them to drop their disguise.

“Stiles has been taken by shapeshifters?” he echoed questioningly. That's the first time he heard about this. Still, they clearly worked out their issues, otherwise Derek would call him immediately for that potion and the Sheriff would be on his way to New York right now, instead of the pack.

As soon as the Sheriff had some time to spare after he came back, he paid Deaton a visit. He was worried about his son and wanted to know everything about that supposed magical transfer. The Vet was stunned hearing Sheriff's probable explanation of what happened to Stiles. He didn't think it was possible. Though, really, he shouldn't be surprised – it was Stiles and his spark they were talking about. They had a long talk and Deaton reassured the Sheriff that his son would be alright. Derek was the right person to take care of Stiles in this situation and if something happened he was just a phone call away.

Derek did call. All worried and overprotective he asked about safe sleeping aids for Stiles or something else to help with his nightmares. Even Stiles called him once wanting to confirm some things about kitsunes and sparks he found during his research on the subject.

Deaton was happy to help and agreed to keep in secret Stiles' whereabouts.

He still couldn't believe, that Scott and his pack could do something like that to their own friend. He started to pay closer attention to them and conducted some research on his own regarding the issue.

“Yeah,” Scott confirmed. “We need to find him quickly. We know where one of them might be, so we will make him tell us, where they keep Stiles.”

Deaton hummed thoughtfully, going back to finishing the vials.

“This might work, but you should scour the city too, just in case,” he advised.

Scott nodded.

“Yeah, we do that, too,” he agreed. “We have everything planned already. We're just have to wait until we can execute it.”

Scott came closer and pocketed finished vials.

“Can you make more, just on case?” the Alpha asked.

Deaton shook his head.

“It works better, when it's fresh,” he explained. “I can give you recipe and ingredients to take with you and you'll make it later. It's not that complicated.”

“Okay,” Scott agreed, shrugging.

Deaton pulled a notepad with a pen and started to write down the directions for making the potion.

Meanwhile Scott turned to the pack.

“Okay, we have things to do before the showdown,” he declared. “Let's get to it. I'll just take these things and join you soon.”

Everyone agreed, said their goodbyes and headed to the door.

Scott waited until Deaton put everything in a bag and handed it to him.

“Good luck,” the Vet said.

“Thanks. For everything,” the Alpha smiled and made for the exit. “We'll keep you posted,”

“Have a safe trip!” Deaton called after them.

Scott threw him a weird look over his shoulder, shrugged and left.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I should put a warning or not. I imagine some people may be uncomfortable reading certain part of it. If it warrants a warning let me know.  
> Also if there are mistakes in the spelling or others. I read it over three times, but everything is just jumbling together.   
> Extra length. (Not as long as I hoped :/ In my word processor it looks like a lot more than it really is :()   
> Enjoy :)

After making sure the house was empty and the neighbors weren't looking, Scott let them all in through the back door. They dispersed to search the house more thoroughly for any clues. After a few hours not an inch of the house was left unchecked, but they still didn't find anything that pointed to Stiles' location or anything amiss for that matter.

They gathered in the living room.

“Maybe we're wrong about this,” Liam ventured.

“I don't think so,” Scott replied, but he lacked the confidence he had before. “Anyway we have to make sure, so we'll proceed with the plan.” He checked the time on the phone, “The Sheriff should be home in about an hour.”

“I'm hungry,” Malia stated and stalked to the kitchen.

“We're not here to eat,” Scott hissed after her.

“Relax, Scott,” Lydia said, sitting on the couch. She reached for the remote and turned the TV on, “I'm sure Stiles and the Sheriff wouldn't mind.”

“We weren't invited,” Kira pointed out nervously.

“Nonsense,” Lydia waved her concerns away. “They both said on separate occasions, that we're always welcome.”

“Yeah,” Scott agreed tentatively. He took upon that offer many times himself. “Just, keep away from the windows and don't make a noise.”

They watched some TV and when the time for the Sheriff return neared, they cleaned after themselves and took their assigned positions.

The pack waited in tense silence for about fifteen minutes before the werewolves heard the car approaching the house. Scott murmured a silent warning. They waited with a bated breath for the Sheriff to walk into the house. The door barely closed after him, when the pack pounced.

Scott grabbed him by the arm, Liam by the other, to restrain him. Kira stepped between them and the door with her katana in hand to cut off his escape route.

“What the hell–“ the Sheriff started, struggling against two werewolves.

He cut himself off as Lydia emptied content of the glass she was holding into his face. He coughed and sputtered, the liquid dropping from his chin on the floor.

“What the fuck?!” he demanded. “Are you insane?!”

“I– I don't understand,” Scott said when nothing happened.

The potion worked immediately. Forced the shapeshifter into his original form. But the Sheriff was still... Sheriff.

Liam paled and stepped away from the Sheriff, hiding behind shocked Lydia.

“That makes both of us!” John glared at the Alpha.

Scott gulped, lost for words.

“I swear to God, Scott,” the Sheriff wheezed. “If you... don't... start,” he wavered on his feet, gasping for breath.

“Mr. Stilinski?” Scott looked at him in a panic. “What's wrong?”

The Sheriff didn't answer, just went down on his knees, scratching at his throat.

“Oh God,” the Alpha was struck by sudden realization. “Call the ambulance!” he yelled at Kira and turned to Liam, “Get the med kit from the bathroom!”

The young Beta took off to the bathroom for the requested item.

Scott carefully wiped clean the Sheriff's face, making sure to get rid of every drop of the potion. When Liam brought back the med kit, he quickly found an epipen. He applied the adrenaline, just the way his mother taught him.

“They are on the way,” Kira said. “What happened?”

“Allergic reaction,” Scott explained. He shook his head ruefully, “I should have remembered. Deaton used a mushroom to make a potion, the kind the Sheriff is allergic to.”

“Are you saying we almost killed the Sheriff?!” Liam demanded hysterically.

“Told you we should ask,” Malia stated, actually showing some concern. “Now Stiles will be furious.”

“Oh, God, Stiles,” Scott moaned. “I'm so sorry, Mr. Stilinski. We just wanted to find Stiles.”

The Sheriff didn't answer, just glared murderously at him, focusing on his breathing.

The ambulance showed up a minute later and Scott rattled off relevant things to the medic.

“You go,” Lydia gestured Scott to the ambulance the medic helped Sheriff into. “We'll lock up the house and meet you there.”

The Alpha nodded and without a word climbed after the Sheriff.

The ride to the hospital was quiet, but Scott could smell and feel the anger emanating from the Sheriff. He hunched guiltily and followed them into the building. The pack joined him a few minutes later, anxious of the news. He shrugged at their questioning gazes, so they settled to wait.

They saw Mrs. McCall a few times and each time she sent a glare in their direction. Scott tried to talk to her, but she told him to stay put and wait. A half hour into their wait Deputy Parrish showed up. He exchanged a few words with the nurse and went ahead to see the Sheriff. He left not even ten minutes after just to come back almost an hour later with an envelope. Parrish talked briefly to Mrs. McCall, looking at the pack once or twice. She nodded at what he was saying. Then he went to Sheriff's room. Mrs. McCall sighed and made her way to the kids.

“Come with me,” she ordered. “All of you.”

They quietly followed her to the room, where the Sheriff and Parrish waited.

The Sheriff was sitting in bed, looking a lot better than the last time they saw him, displeasure clear to see on his face. Parrish stood beside him all calm and collected, tapping the folder on his fingertips for something to do. Mrs. McCall stood by the door, blocking the exit with a stern expression.

“Sit,” John ordered them hoarsely, gesturing at five chairs lined by the wall. They complied hesitantly.

“First and foremost,” the Sheriff warned. “Not a word to Stiles about what happened, because he just might kill you and I won't stand in his way if that happens, do you understand?”

There was a nervous silence. The Sheriff huffed and looked at Parrish expectantly.

“Do you understand?” the Deputy repeated in a louder, more demanding voice.

“Yes,” the pack murmured.

“Now, since Sheriff Stilinski can't talk much yet, I will ask questions instead of him,” Parrish declared. “And I suppose for Mrs. McCall too, in this case. So, what the hell did you think you were doing?”

“We thought Mr. Stilinski was a shapeshifter and kidnapped Stiles, since we didn't see him for over two weeks,” Scott answered quietly.

The Sheriff and Mrs. McCall actually facepalmed. Parrish pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And you didn't think to ask first?” the Deputy sighed.

“Told you,” Malia said smugly.

“Like I said, we thought he was a shapeshifter, so we couldn't risk it,” Scott turned his puppy eyes at the Sheriff, “I'm really sorry about that. I didn't realize what kind of mushroom Deaton used until it was too late.” He crossed his arms resentfully, “And we still don't know where Stiles is.”

“Stiles is away on vacation,” Parrish informed them after a confirming nod from the Sheriff.

All of five jaws dropped in shock.

“What?” Scott found his voice first. “Why didn't I know about this?”

“Why should you?” John asked. “It doesn't concern you.”

“I'm his friend and Alpha!” Scott growled defensively. “I need to know this things.”

“Are you?” the Sheriff narrowed his eyes.

Scott flinched back.

“What?” he questioned weakly.

“Are you his friend?” John demanded. “You remembered he existed after two weeks of nothing and just because you needed research!”

Scott hung his head in shame, just like the rest of the teenagers. The Sheriff was absolutely right.

Parrish cleared his throat.

“Let's focus on the situation, shall we?” he proposed. “You do realize, that I can arrest you for breaking and entering, not to mention for an attack on the officer of the law, right?”

“We just waited for the Sheriff to come home,” Lydia said. “And we explained why we 'attacked' him.”

“Just waited, huh?” the Deputy smirked. “What did you do then?”

“Oh, just watched some TV and snacked a little,” she replied airily.

Parrish pulled out some photos from the envelope and handed them to her.

On the photos were various members of the pack, digging through stuff in the house.

“This doesn't look like just watching TV and snacking,” Parrish commented.

He chuckled at their horrified expressions.

“Oh, did you forget about the cameras Sheriff Stilinski installed during the Nogitsune debacle?”

By the look on their faces they totally forgot.

Parrish turned serious.

“Here's what we'll do,” he declared. “The Sheriff won't press charges against you. And won't tell your parents. Well, present parents excluded.”

The pack, sans their Alpha, breathed in relief.

“But,” the Deputy smiled wickedly, “in return you need to help around the station for the summer.”

The teenagers looked at each other, but they didn't have much of a choice. They agreed.

“You start tomorrow at nine,” the Sheriff informed. “Now, off you go. I need to call my son.”


	13. Chapter 13

The two weeks that followed the departure of the Sheriff back to Beacon Hills were as Derek expected and was prepared for.

After the high of being with a pack member, who actually give a damn about him faded, Stiles calmed down a bit. Oh, he still was plenty of happy during the day, running around the city excitedly, dragging Derek along. Though he had days, when he just sat quietly with a book or watched TV wrapped in blankets or even didn't left his bedroom at all.

Nights were filled with nightmares, tears, long talks and cuddles and tentatively, slowly, Stiles started to improve.

They talked to the Sheriff on Skype once a day, usually late at night because of the time difference. Which is why the talks lasted just a few minutes. More often than not, Derek had to wake up the teenager to take the call.

Stiles was very excited to discover Derek had a Skype account. Immediately he declared they will be using it, so the pack won't try to contact Stiles and discover where is.

Stiles smiled at him, when he spied Cora in his contacts. Derek shrugged, saying that he called her regularly to ask how was she doing. With Stiles there? The calls doubled as he and his sister became fast friends. Really, Derek could live happily without that.

When the teenager saw that Derek had also Jackson Whittemore in his contacts, he threw him a weird look. That, Derek explained, because Stiles' “why do you have this douchebag in your contacts, oh my God!” irked him somewhat.

He knew the teenager didn't really mean it like that, but it stung at the possibility, that Stiles thought Derek could abandon someone form his pack. And following this thought, the werewolf didn't want Stiles to get any ideas, that he would leave him. So he told Stiles how he made sure Jackson was accepted into a pack in London, which helped him deal with his werewolf status. How he calls Jackson sometimes to check in. How Jackson calls him for help with his wolf or just to talk. About the pack, about supernatural, about what happened when he was the kanima. Stiles went quiet at that. A little guilty, plenty of thoughtful.

“He didn't tell us he remembered that,” he said eventually.

“No, he wouldn't,” Derek replied. “He thought you hated him. Blamed him. So he didn't even try to talk to you guys about any of that.”

“We screwed it up, huh?” Stiles smiled ruefully.

“It's okay, Stiles,” the werewolf assured him. “He has a pack to help him. And if it's not enough he knows he can count on you, despite of how things were left back then. He's okay. And you will be too.”

Stiles threw himself into Derek's arms then and cried for a long time.

The teenager took to confiscate Derek's laptop to do some research on kitsunes and sparks, to better understand what was happening to him. Any questions, especially about the werewolf part, he asked Derek and if he didn't had the answers, he begrudgingly called to ask Deaton.

They had a fight about letting Deaton know where Stiles was. Stiles didn't trust the Vet to not tell Scott where they were. Derek insisted to call him, because Stiles had just four hours of sleep in three days because of nightmares and it wasn't healthy. It took the Sheriff informing them, that Deaton knew, because John talked to him about Stiles' situation with the pack for them to resolve the issue. Derek was happy, because he got tips to help Stiles. Stiles was happy, because Deaton actually seemed to keep his mouth shut, as no one from the pack showed up on their doorstep or tried to contact them.

“It's been over an hour, Derek!” Stiles worried, pacing around. He had waited by the laptop for his father's call impatiently since the time he knew the Sheriff would be home from his shift.

“I'm sure he's fine, Stiles,” the werewolf tried to calm him down. “Maybe he got caught up in work.”

“Then he would have texted me,” the teenager pointed out.

“Again, maybe–“

Stiles' phone chirped and Stiles threw himself across the room to answer it.

“Hi, dad, why so late? I was worried,” Stiles rambled as soon as he accepted the call.

“Stiles, hi,” the Sheriff rasped. “I'm fine, I promise.”

“You don't sound fine,” the teenager accused.

Derek looked up at that form his book. He stood up and walked to Stiles, sliding behind him and pulled him against his body for comfort.

“I swear, I'm fine,” John was saying. “You can ask Melissa, if you don't believe me. I had just a little allergic reaction and I'm at the hospital for observation.”

“What?!” Stiles yelled, immediately thrown into panic. “What happened?!”

“Stiles, Stiles. Calm. Down,” Derek murmured into his ear.

It took a minute, but the teenager calmed down.

“Can I continue?” the Sheriff asked.

“By all means,” Stiles replied sarcastically.

“It was an accident,” John explained. “One of my newest recruits gave me some fancy dish to try and it had those mushrooms in it. I'm fine. I'm leaving in the morning and Melissa will stay with me for the day. I'll Skype you as soon as I get home tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles breathed in relief, but he was still shaking in Derek's arms. “But they're still dead.”

“It was an accident,” the Sheriff repeated.

“I don't care.”

John sighed.

“Alright,” he consented. “I'll see you in the morning. Remember, Melissa will be there. I don't think Scott will, though. He will be busy.”

“Of course he will,” Stiles scoffed.

“Good night, son,” the Sheriff said. “Don't worry. I'm fine.”

“Okay, good night, dad.”

“Good night, Sheriff,” Derek said.

“'Night, Derek,” John replied and ended the call.

Stiles turned to wrap himself around Derek and didn't let go until he saw his father in the Skype window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, so, since I'm fine either way I'll let you decide if you want in next chapter for pack to discover where Stiles is or not. :P It's like 18:20 here now, so you have about 16 hours before I start writing :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pack not discovering Stiles' whereabouts it is.

The Sheriff was still sleeping when Scott walked into his hospital room.

The Alpha and his mom came to take Mr. Stilinski home. Melissa went to get release paperwork and she told Scott to let the Sheriff know to be ready to leave.

But the Sheriff was asleep and his phone was lying on the bedside table innocently. The same phone, from which the Sheriff called Stiles yesterday. The same phone, which had Stiles' new number in it's memory. And Stiles apparently had a new number, because Scott tried to call him the moment he left the hospital and still got only a voice mail.

Scott glanced at the Sheriff quickly and moved closer. He reached for the phone.

“Don't even think about it,” John warned.

The Alpha jerked back, startled. He smiled sheepishly a second later.

“Hi, Mr. Stilinski,” Scott waved with two fingers. “Mom send me to tell you to get ready to leave.”

The Sheriff grunted, sitting up.

“Finally,” he muttered. “I don't know how people can sleep here.”

“Well,” Scott shifted uncomfortably. “I'll just wait outside.”

“Okay,” the Sheriff agreed.

Scott nodded and left, throwing a mournful look over his shoulder at Sheriff's phone.

About an hour later they got to the Stilinski's house. John opened the door and let Melissa enter first. Scott made to follow, but the Sheriff stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Don't you have somewhere to be?” John asked, raising an eyebrow at Scott's confused look.

“I thought–“ the Alpha started.

“Well, you thought wrong,” the Sheriff informed.

“You can't keep me– us away from Stiles!” Scott cried defensively.

“I'm his father and I most certainly can,” John replied. “But in this case I don't have to do anything, because it's Stiles who doesn't want to talk to any of you.”

Scott took a couple steps back as if struck, an expression on his face resembling that of a kicked puppy.

“Why?” he asked plaintively. “Is it because we didn't hang out with him in the last couple of weeks?”

“Try more like months,” the Sheriff corrected, checking his watch. “And it's not only that. Now, I believe you have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“But–“ the Alpha started to protest.

“Scott!” Melissa came back to the door and glared at her son.

“Yes, mom,” Scott looked cowed. “Bye, mom. Bye, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Bye, Scott,” the Sheriff smirked. “Have fun!”

“You know,” Mrs. McCall said once the door was closed. “Scott feels really bad about this situation.”

“I know,” the Sheriff sighed, walking to the kitchen. “Coffee? Tea?” he offered.

“Coffee, please.”

The Sheriff nodded and started to prepare a fresh pot.

“I just don't think it's enough, that it would last once he gets his way,” he explained. “I don't believe that it won't happen again. And Stiles doesn't need that. Not on top of what he has been through already.”

Melissa hummed thoughtfully.

“You clearly know something I don't,” she stated.

“Yeah,” the Sheriff admitted. “I'll tell you after I talk to Stiles.”

Once the coffee was ready, they moved to the living room. The Sheriff booted up his laptop and logged on Skype. He checked if Derek was online and clicked on the call button.

A few moments later a sleepy Derek Hale appeared in the camera window. He was laying down, rubbing his eyes. Sprawled on top of him was Stiles, still clearly asleep.

Melissa gasped quietly. Never in a million years she expected to see Derek with Stiles in that position. And John didn't even bat an eyelid.

“G'morning, Sheriff,” the werewolf yawned. “Sorry. Mrs. McCall, good morning.”

She nodded, still too surprised to form words.

“You know, what? Why don't you call me John, okay?” the Sheriff asked. “And good morning to you too.”

“John,” Derek nodded and prodded Stiles, “Your father is on Skype.”

Stiles made a complaining noise, turned his head the other way and buried himself deeper into Derek's body.

The werewolf rolled his eyes.

“This may take a while,” he huffed. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm fine, just a little tired,” the Sheriff replied. “Hospitals are not made for sleeping. What about you? Did we wake you?”

“Yeah,” Derek nudged Stiles again. “He was worried and couldn't sleep until about five in the morning. Stiles, come on.”

“Whaaaat?” the teenager complained.

“Your dad is on Skype,” Derek informed.

“Hey, son,” the Sheriff greeted.

Stiles groaned and with an effort turned again to look at the laptop.

“Hi, dad,” he greeted and promptly buried his face into Derek's chest.

They waited expectantly for a few seconds.

“Dad!” Stiles flailed up, scrambling for the laptop, suddenly wide awake. “Oh my God, are you alright? How are you feeling? What the doctors said? Are you sure you shouldn't still be in hospital?”

“Whoa, Stiles, calm down,” the Sheriff soothed. “I'm alright. Melissa is with me, see?”

“Oh, uh,” the teenager blushed, now noticing the mother of his best friend. “Hi, Mrs. McCall.”

“Hi, Stiles,” Melissa greeted.

“Now,” Stiles narrowed his eyes at his father. “Tell me what happened. In details.”

The Sheriff groaned.


	15. Chapter 15

“No, nope, I don't believe you,” Stiles shook his head at his father, when he finished explaining in great detail what happened to land him in a hospital. “Derek?”

Damn it all to hell. John didn't count on Stiles using the werewolf as his personal lie detector. He so should have see that coming.  
The Sheriff threw Derek a look, just daring him to say anything.

“Most of it was a lie,” Derek stated, because of course he would pick Stiles' side.

Even as the Sheriff cursed Derek for it, he was grateful.

“The truth now, please,” Stiles demanded.

“ Son, I don't think–“ John started.

“I will find out,” the teenager  informed . “You know I will.  So you can just get it out of the way. ”

The Sheriff sighed deeply.

“The pack though t I was  a shapeshifter and they threw some kind  of potion at me.  I  had an allergic reaction  to it . ”

“Really funny, dad,” Stiles snorted. “Any other stories before you decide to tell me what really happened?”

“U g h,” Derek  groaned,  facepalming . “ I'm gonna rip those f ucking idiots  apart when I get back .”

“ Wait, what?” the teenager whipped around to stare at the werewolf. “ Derek,  what– ?”  He looked at the laptop  screen  with wide eyes, “That was the truth?!”

“ In their defense, they did had to deal with a shapeshifter about a week ago,” John shrugged. “And they got their punishment, don't worry. Melissa and Parrish agreed with me to let them  'volunteer' at the station for the summer.”

“ A w hole summer?” Stiles  smirked . 

Maybe it was fun to be at the station and do odd jobs here and there. But the novelty quickly wears off and it gets dreadfully,  mind numbing boring.

“ We let them off a week before the end,” the Sheriff said, “ s o they have some time to prepare for school.”

“ Mhmm,” Stiles hummed distractedly, already planning his revenge.

“ So,” the Sheriff leaned back on the couch comfortably, “What did you get up to yesterday?”

Stiles light up and he launched into telling a story of how they got banned from the restaurant in Chinatown, when Derek  caved and  allowed Stiles to try using  chopsticks instead of a fork.

H alfway through, Derek excused himself to make breakfast. Or tried to.

“Pancakes?” Stiles asked, clutching at him and staring at him pleadingly.

Derek shook his head.

“Today we were supposed to–“ he started.

“Please,” the teenager pawed at him like a begging puppy, batting his eyelashes. “Pretty please?”

“Damn,” the Sheriff groaned. “I want some too. Is there a way to ship them in a five minutes?”

“ I'm afraid not,” Derek replied and huffed when Stiles started to fawn. “Alright already. You'll get your pancakes.”

“ Thank you!” the teenager hugged Derek and let him go.

M elissa observed their antics in bewilderment. Stiles was happily climbing all over the werewolf and said werewolf didn't do anything about it, when just a little  over than  half a  year ago he would have snapped at anyone who wo u ld dare to touch him.

“Derek makes mean pancakes,” John explained,  seeing her expression .

“ The best in a whole world,” Stiles agreed. “It's a perfection. Food of gods. The best made thing ever. The taste it's not compara–“

“Finish the story, Stiles,” the werewolf called from the kitchen.

“Right,” the teenager laughed and continued recounting their adventure.

“Stiles looked a lot better, than the last time I saw him,” Melissa commented after they ended their call and she and the Sheriff relaxed in the quiet house.

“Yeah,” John agreed. “Being with Derek and away from Beacon Hills helps him a lot.”

“ But,” Mrs. McCall started carefully, “wouldn't be better if Stiles was around his friends?”

The Sheriff sighed, rubbing his hands across his face.

“I don't think so,” he said. “Actually, according to Derek and Deaton,  staying with the pack had a potential  of kill ing him.  And from what  Stiles told me and I saw  myself , they weren't exaggerating. ”

Melissa frowned.

“I realize them staying away from Stiles was a bad decision on their part, but surely it wasn't that bad.”

“It's worse, Melissa,” John sighed. “It's so much worse.”

Mrs. McCall turned to him, tucking her legs under her body on the couch and looked at the Sheriff expectantly.

“I think it's time for you to explain everything to me,” she observed. “Tell me.”

The Sheriff took a deep breath and started talking.


	16. Chapter 16

“I'm home!” Scott called as he closed the door behind him.

He spent whole eight hours at the police station with his pack. For the first three they were familiarizing themselves with their duties. And then spend the rest of the time sorting through the mountains of paperwork. Not that it wasn't fun, but Scott got a headache just from trying to decipher some handwritten notes. After five hours they barely made a dent in the pile meant to be sorted out. Parrish was clearly judging them, when he showed up to tell them they were done for the day. Which was uncalled for, because it wasn't like they spend half the time talking. Just maybe an hour. Or two. Okay, maybe they did deserve it. But it was Deputy's own fault for leaving them unsupervised, together in a room with a boring job. Yes, Scott was aware he was whining like a child. He was entitled to. The next day he had a shift at veterinary clinic and then straight to the station for another three hours. He already felt exhausted. At least he will hang out with Kira and his other friends, still trying to order all that files.

“Mom?” he asked, slightly worried, when he didn't receive any reply. “Are you home?”

“In the kitchen,” came the quiet answer. If Scott wasn't a werewolf, he wouldn't hear it.

The Alpha headed to the kitchen and stopped short at the entrance at the sight, that greeted him.

His mother was sitting at the kitchen table, a bowl of ice cream placed before her. She was licking the spoon clear slowly, staring into space deeply in thought.

“Mom?” Scott prompted. “Is something wrong? What happened?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, getting another spoonful of ice cream.

“Mom, you're scaring me,” Scott said, when it was clear she won't say anything more, all of the worst scenarios flying through his mind. “Something happened to the Sheriff?”

Finally Melissa turned to Scott and his heart clenched. The look she gave him was a mix of carefully concealed emotions – sadness, disappointment, guilt, anger. He barely could detect them, but he had a lifetime to learn how to read his mother.

“John is fine, Scott,” Mrs. McCall mustered a small smile. “Just something... disturbing came to my attention.”

“Oh, okay,” the Alpha tilted his head slightly, trying to judge the level of his mother's willingness to discuss the matter further.

Not right now, he decided.

“Did you talk to Stiles?” he asked instead, incredibly curious and desperate for some news about his best friend.

“Yes,” Melissa smiled. “I even saw him.”

“Really?” Scott brightened. “Is he back? Can I go to him now?”

Mrs. McCall looked at him strangely.

“He's not back,” she corrected and Scott's face fell. “We had a video conference.”

“Oh,” the Alpha sighed, dejected. “Is he alright?”

Melissa sighed, shaking her head and spooning another portion of ice cream.

“Under the circumstances he's as happy as he can get,” she informed, “but he's not alright. Hasn't been in a while and I didn't notice.”

“What?” Scott was confused. “Mom, what are you talking about?”

“When was the last time Stiles came over to hang out?” Mrs. McCall questioned. “Not to the meetings, where you were talking about current supernatural crisis, but just to hang out, have a heart to heart with his best friend?”

“I–“ Scott frowned, thinking. “I don't remember.”

“Exactly,” Melissa hummed, eating some more ice cream. “When was the last time he even came to a pack meeting? A far as I'm aware, he didn't show up even once after you got back from Mexico the second time.”

“That's not–“ the Alpha started to protest, but cut himself off, thinking hard. Now, that it was pointed out to him, he realized, that outside of school Stiles stopped hanging out with them months ago. “We all needed some space, after, a few days to themselves. When he didn't show up, we thought he needed some more time. And then... I didn't even notice he wasn't there. I asked him to do some research when we were in school a few times and he always gave it to me in school too. He didn't show up at the meetings.”

“Did he even know about them?” Melissa asked.

“What?” Scott bristled. “What question is that?”

“A simple one,” his mother stated. “Did you tell him you started meetings again?”

“No,” Scott frowned. “I assumed–“

“That's part of the problem, isn't it?” Melissa observed. “We assume, that he knows everything, because he knows everything. We assumed a lot of things about him – that he knows no one blames him for what the Nogitsune did, that he was fine and over it, that he will always be around when you need something, that he was always okay and didn't need any help. Did you even tried to talk to him about it? Any of you?”

Scott lowered his eyes at the floor.

“Not really,” he admitted. “We were busy with the death pool, and then I was busy with Kira, trained Liam and Malia. Lydia was trying to figure out what Parrish is... We didn't really had time to hang out with him.”

“You didn't have the time, or you didn't want to?” Melissa asked, looking at him determinedly.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No matter what I did, it didn't want to get longer, sorry :/
> 
> Thank you all for the reviews! They keep me going :)

“What?!” the Alpha exclaimed in disbelief. “How can you say that?”

How could his mother imply he didn't want his best friend hanging out with him? Sure, he didn't have the time. And Stiles hardly needed some help. But it wasn't like Scott didn't want him around, right? It just all his time he was busy.

The new-and-improved-Scott had to work hard to keep his grades up or actually improve them. He was working for Deaton, most days taking over for him, if the cases didn't require an actual surgery. He was training Liam and Malia, away from other people to minimize the risks and distractions. And when he had some free time, he focused on his and Kira's budding romance. When he needed something or just talk to someone, he was always with one pack member or the other, and looking for Stiles would just take too much time he didn't have. The times when they finally get to met as a whole pack, were just as natural as breathing. Inevitable, like they were pulled towards each other. And no one all this time even once suggested to call Stiles, Scott suddenly realized.

“I'm trying to understand what happened for you and your pack to become a danger to him!” Mrs. McCall suddenly yelled at him in anger, making the Alpha jump.

“What?” Scott choked out weakly after a few seconds it took him to register the meaning of his mother's words, completely thrown off at her outburst. “I don't– What do you mean?”

“How many times Liam attacked him, hm?” she demanded angrily.

“He's a new wolf,” the Alpha defended. “He can't control himself compl–”

“He controlled himself fine, before,” Melissa argued, cutting him off. “And it doesn't justify Liam attacking other people and you know it!”

Scott flinched. Oh, he did know it. It's just... Stiles got through several newly turned werewolves attacking him before – Scott himself, Isaac, Erica, hell even Malia, and he never got hurt. He had the experience in handling them. He was fine doing that, right? Right?

“And you–“ Melissa shook her head, breathing for a few seconds to calm herself down a bit and continued in a even voice, “you scratched him, Scott. You could turn him into a werewolf. He could have been seriously hurt.”

The Alpha paled. Did he really do that? When?!

His mother glared at him.

“And what did you do?!” she demanded. “Instead of making sure he was alright you bounded off to your meeting with Kira!”

He remembered the accident now. Liam threw himself at Stiles after he riled him up good-naturedly and Scott pulled him out of the way, roaring Liam into submission. Stiles grumbled something about his favorite shirt and that he was fine, but his words barely registered as Scott was in a hurry to his long awaited date with the kitsune. Did he even thought to check if Stiles was fine?

“And the day before that,” him mom apparently wasn't finished with pointing out his failures as a friend and Alpha, “he actually called you to talk about his problems, and what did you do?”

Scott whined mournfully.

“I told him I don't have time, because I was already on my way to a date with Kira,” he admitted quietly.

“See the pattern in here?” Melissa narrowed her eyes at him. “The escalating aggression towards him, you and your friends ignoring him and avoiding him?”

Scott nodded miserably.

“What do I do now?” he looked at his mother pleadingly.

“You're an Alpha, Scott.” Mrs. McCall told him. “You get your pack together and fix this. Before someone dies.”


	18. Chapter 18

Scott sighed resignedly. He did it again.

When he showed up at the clinic, Deaton asked him to restock the cabinets. The Alpha was so deep in thought, he didn't even notice, he was putting items in the wrong place.

“Are you alright?” Deaton asked, when Scott started to pull the bottles from the cabinet he just put them into. “You seem... distracted.”

“Yeah,” Scott replied. “I guess I am.”

He debated for a few seconds if he should talk to the Vet about his epic fail. It wasn't as if Deaton would be interested in what they do in their free time, but there was a supernatural factor in this situation and the Vet definitely could help with that.

“It's just–“ the Alpha put the bottles on the counter and turned to look at Deaton.

The Vet was staring at him patiently, waiting until he gathered his thoughts.

“I can't believe I let things go so bad with Stiles,” Scott confessed.

“We all did,” Deaton tried to console him. “I should have pay closer attention. It turned out Derek was right.”

“Derek was right?” Scott echoed in confusion. “About what?”

“That Stiles absorbed some of kitsune and werewolf's characteristics from the Nogitsune,” Deaton replied. “I shouldn't dismiss the likelihood of this happening, no matter how small that chance was. After all, it's Stiles we're talking about.”

“Whoa, wait!” the Alpha yelped, his eyes widening in surprise and horror.

His best friend was dealing with yet another thing left after the Nogitsune? What was it? Was he a supernatural being? Was he still possessed? Will Stiles follow in Nogitsune's footsteps?

“Go back,” Scott demanded. “What was that about Stiles absorbing something from the Nogitsune?”

“Scott,” Deaton threw him a look of exasperated pity. “You were there, when I talked with Derek about this. Weren't you listening?”

“Oh, uh,” the Alpha scratched his neck sheepishly. “No?”

Now, Deaton was a very composed man. Rarely something surprised him, and if something did, he always stayed calm and collected and effortlessly maintained the air of a professionalism. But this, this... He just couldn't.

The Vet groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttered something about 'stupid' and 'True Alpha' and 'hard work'. There might be something about 'past life' and 'deserve' too.

“So,” Scott started cautiously, when he was sure Deaton went through most of his fit. “What did Stiles took from the Nogitsune? The need for strife and pain? Will he cause chaos, like the Nogitsune had? Will he start killing people?”

“Jesus, Scott,” the Vet massaged his temples. “Nothing this extreme.”

The Alpha sighed in relief.

“His spark wouldn't let something dark and evil get through to him in that transfer,” Deaton continued. “Stiles just got heightened instincts he already had – protect the pack, take care of the pack, be with the pack.”

“He even had those instincts?” Scott frowned in confusion.

Sure, it makes sense for a werewolf to have them, but a human? Scott always assumed it was just Stiles' caring nature, that drove his friend to do half the things he did for the pack.

Deaton sighed.

“Yes, Scott,” he replied, a lot less patiently than usual. “Of course he had them already. It comes with being in the continuous presence of the werewolves and being in a pack. You do know how pack works, right?”

The Alpha looked at Deaton uncertainly.

“I thought I knew?” he tried. “I'm not so sure now.”

“So, it's safe to assume you don't even know what you did to Stiles as an Alpha and a pack?” Deaton checked.

“We ignored him,” Scott listed, “We didn't invite him to hang out with us. We just used him for his research skills.”

“While all of it is true,” the Vet stated, “it's not exactly what I meant.”

“There's more?” the Alpha whimpered.

In how many ways he could screw up one single friendship he had practically his whole life?

In a lot of ways, he found out as Deaton started lecturing him about inner workings of the pack and it's hierarchy.

“There was a slight bump, when Derek lost his status as an Alpha and you became one,” the Vet commented, when he was talking about Stiles' rank in the pack. “Isaac became your second and it clashed with Stiles' position, since he assumed Stiles was your second. Isaac quickly learned it wasn't the case, that Stiles still had the same rank he had in Derek's pack and things went smoothly on that front.”

After explaining how a pack of werewolves should work, Deaton told Scott some things about sparks and how the possession affected Stiles and his membership in the pack. He talked about the cumulative effect of everything the pack had done on the young Stilinski and how could it have ended.

A few hours later a very despondent Scott left the clinic for a shift in a police station.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh, I just realized that the pack shouldn't even had a permission to see the files, but oh well :P And I don't actually know how the sorting system in police works, so I 'Stiles-made' one xD

After he arrived at the station, Scott went to see Parrish first. A very amused looking Deputy logged his presence and send the True Alpha off to do his appointed task. Then Scott trudged up to the room, where his pack still worked on sorting the files. He let himself in and wasn't really surprised when he noticed they didn't make much progress with reducing the mountain of papers that day either.

Seriously, it will take them forever! They were supposed to sort the folders by crime, so they had to skim through the reports to figure out to which crime the file belonged. It wasn't easy!

“Hi,” the Alpha greeted his friends quietly, mustering up a smile.

Liam, Kira, Lydia and Malia looked up from their tasks smiling, happy he finally joined them. Their smiles instantly dropped however, when they registered the mood he was in. They immediately jumped up from their spots and crowded him in worry.

“What's wrong?”, “What happened?”, “Are you alright?” his friends demanded, talking over each other and Scott had a hard time to decipher who asked which question.

The situation just made him feel worse, though. Because, fuck, when they realized Stiles was missing, they all were worried sure, but they weren't even near this frantic as the pack was now. And wasn't that another tell of how bad things came to be?

“Give him some room,” Lydia snapped finally, pushing everyone away a little and stepping back herself.

Scott was grateful, because suddenly it was hard to breathe. A lump formed in his throat and threatened to choke him. His eyes burned, and oh, hell, no. He wasn't going to cry, dammit. Not in front of all of them. He was an Alpha werewolf. The True Alpha. He will put himself and his pack together and he will fix the mess they created.

If Scott only could convince his body about that. He felt a pair of treacherous tears slid down his cheeks.

Kira moved back closer, curling into his side. Scott automatically put his hand around her shoulders and pulled her closer. She looked up at him with wide, sympathetic eyes.

“What's wrong,” the kitsune asked gently.

The Alpha smiled shakily, lifting his other hand and wiping his eyes and nose with his sleeve.

“I'll tell you later. It can wait for a few hours,” he declared. “Let's get back to work.”

The pack gave him a dubious looks, but listened. They went back to their places and resumed sorting the files, glancing at him worriedly once in a while as they worked.

Scott shook himself off, determined to be his cheerful self. It wasn't like he could do something about the situation with Stiles immediately, so there was no point in worrying the pack further. It took some time, but they all finally relaxed again and had a good time, while sorting out the files.

About fifteen minutes before the end of their appointed work time, the Sheriff and Parrish walked in pulling behind them a few carts filled with more paperwork to sort out.

The pack groaned at the sight of it.

The Sheriff raised his eyebrow, taking in the pack scattered through the room.

Each person found a place for themselves. They had small pile of folders they were sorting on the side. Before them they had stacks of already sorted files. The biggest one had Lydia. The smallest Malia. And that was something, considering the fact, that Scott was here not even three hours. Each of them had an open folder in hand to scan it's contents for a proper placement.

“You're still doing this?” John asked, fighting to not let his lips curve up in amusement. “It has been what? Two days? With the five of you? Stiles would have sorted and alphabetized all of that in about three hours.” He ignored the way the pack flinched at the mention of his son and amended, “Well, maybe four.”

“No way!” Liam protested. “Nobody is that quick.”

The Sheriff shrugged, keeping down his laugh.

“At least you have something to do,” he observed. John gestured at the files he and Parrish brought, “You can put these with the ones you already have together. But that is for tomorrow, you can go now.”

The teenagers scrambled to put the sorted files together and left, saying their goodbyes.

The Sheriff watched them go and once he was sure they were out of earshot he let out a chuckle.

“You did tell them, that Stiles made all of us write the code for the crime on the front cover of the folder, right?” he asked.

Parrish made an exaggerated expression of shock, gasping and widening his eyes. He even went as far as to cover his mouth with his hand.

“Oops?” he looked sheepish for all of a second before breaking into a wide grin.

The Sheriff laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I make you laugh? Please, tell me I made you laugh :P


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all reviews!
> 
> Double chapter! Some people missed Stiles and Derek and I really wanted to include one scene so I combined two into one.  
> I don't like Malia, so her fans might get mad at me for what I did ;p
> 
> Enjoy!

When Derek came back from his morning run he instantly knew the day won't be too great.

The couch was unfolded, something that happened only in the evenings when they watched more than one movie. Every pillow and blanket made it's way into the nest Stiles created for himself in the middle of it. Stiles himself was buried under one of the quilts, Derek's to be exact. The teenager wasn't sleeping, but didn't do anything much besides lying still and quiet.

The werewolf sighed. It looked like it would be one of Stiles' bad days.

He went upstairs to take a quick shower and change into something comfortable. Then he made his way into the kitchen to make breakfast. When it was ready he came back to the living room and climbed onto the couch. Derek carefully moved through the mess of pillows and blankets Stiles hoarded from the apartment to teenager's side.

“Come on,” the werewolf pulled gently on his quilt covering Stiles. “I made you pancakes.”

Stiles didn't move, but the werewolf could tell he piqued his interest.

“You know you have to actually get up if you want any,” Derek reminded.

It was one of Derek's few rules – no food leaves the kitchen. Snacks and pizza for the movie were allowed on the condition of nothing making it's way that wasn't a plate or stomach. Actual food, though, was out of the question. Derek made that rule, because even though the couch and sofas were soft and comfortable they were a bitch to clean. Besides Stiles could use a little change in the scenery on the days he was hiding from the world.

When the werewolf didn't get a response in any way he sighed, smirking.

“Well then,” he said, backing away from the nest toward the end of the couch, “I'll just have to eat them all by myself.”

That got Stiles moving. He threw the nearest blankets and pillows aside in his haste, purposely crashed into chuckling Derek to slow him down, climbed over him to get off the couch and raced to the kitchen.

Yeah, Derek's pancakes were that good. He didn't exaggerate when he was singing praises for them.

Derek joined him a few seconds later and they ate in a comfortable silence. Afterward Stiles cleaned up and went back to his soft and warm nest only to find Derek already there. He was lying down, propped up on the pillows, the blankets fixed from Stiles' hurried scramble to get up and all the Marvel's superhero movies Derek owned lined up on the table – Stiles might have made Derek buy most of them to complete his collection. The TV was on and the menu for the Captain America flashed across the screen.

“We can do a marathon?” the werewolf proposed.

It was so sweet and thoughtful gesture, that Stiles didn't think he will survive the summer as the sudden lump in his throat almost choked him.

It wasn't like Derek didn't have bad days either. When that happened, Stiles made some food for them, drove them outside of the city and they spend the day in the forest. There Derek ran around in his wolf form to his heart's content or they would just lay on the blanket and soak up the peaceful and quiet atmosphere. Or both. It made Derek happy, so Stiles wasn't picky. And cuddling with an actual wolf was awesome.

The teenager moved to the couch, crawling over to Derek and he flopped down on top of him, hugging him tightly.

“God, I love you,” he muttered into werewolf's chest, where he buried his face.

Derek hummed contently, kissing the top of his head and rubbed his back soothingly.

“Let's get this started,” Stiles decided after a few minutes.

Derek picked up the remote and hit play. Stiles slid off from him onto his side putting his head on Derek's shoulder to see the TV. Derek's arm was still wrapped around him and his fingers rubbed gently up and down Stiles' arm.

They spend a whole day like that, only moving to change the movie or get something to drink. They made a longer pause to eat dinner and supper. Stiles totally forgotten he was supposed to be mopping, invested in telling the werewolf all of the random facts about the movies and arguing with him about some scenes. Until Derek's phone started ringing.

It was late and Stiles realized they should be on Skype around this time, but his father didn't message him he was ready for their daily talk. Besides he wouldn't call Derek's phone – he had Stiles' number.

The werewolf sat up, pausing the movie currently on and reached for his phone. He stilled, staring at it's screen in surprise.

“It's Scott,” he announced.

Once the pack left the police station, they gathered around Scott expectantly.

“Will you tell us now what happened?” Kira asked.

The Alpha shook his head.

“We need to talk,” he announced. “It's about Stiles and us. Us as a pack.”

Liam, Lydia, Malia and Kira looked at each other anxiously.

“What do you mean?” the banshee wanted to know.

Scott sighed, rubbing his face tiredly.

“Let's go to my house and I tell you everything,” he proposed.

The rest of them nodded in agreement and dispersed to their chosen form of transport.

Twenty minutes later they were sitting around Scott's room, while the Alpha relayed everything he learned from his mother and Deaton.

Lydia, Kira and Liam were shocked at the news. The scent of shame and guilt filled the room rapidly with each thing Scott told them they did to their friend. When Scott finally finished, they sat in silence contemplating their failure.

Malia stared at them, frowning in confusion.

“I don't understand,” she declared. “I thought you wanted this.”

“What?” they all looked at her in disbelief.

Malia shrugged.

“It's all instinct,” she said. “You pushed him aside for what he did to that hunter and the twin. He hurt your pack and the one you loved.”

“But that wasn't him doing that!” Scott protested.

Lydia and Liam nodded along, agreeing with him.

“You still blame him for that on some level, though,” Malia countered. “Also you and Kira felt he threatened her position in a pack as your mate. He probably felt a little wrong to you too because of that transfer, I can't tell for sure, because I have no reference before he was possessed.”

“You knew all of this and you didn't tell us?” Lydia demanded, furious.

“I thought you knew and wanted it that way!” Malia defended. “That the only reason you didn't kick him out of the pack completely was, because he was useful during the dead pool.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” the banshee huffed angrily.

“And I thought Stiles taught you how to be a decent human being,” Scott pinched the bridge of his nose resignedly.

“So, all of this,” Malia waved her hand indicating the whole situation, “is bad?”

“Yes,” Kira answered. “It's very bad. We don't hurt people we care about and are our friends and pack.”

“Okay,” Malia clasped her hands. “How do we fix this?”

“I hoped you might have some ideas,” the Alpha confessed. “I know we need to work on our communication with each other, though. And we need to grovel, hard.”

“We need to gather the whole pack together and make a cohesive unit out of it,” Liam piped up.

“We need all to work together,” Lydia agreed. “Not dump everything on one person, namely Stiles, and then just swoop in and save the day.”

“We need to make sure everyone is included and feels wanted and comfortable with the pack,” Kira added. “Talk out our problems.”

“That's fine and dandy,” Malia said, “But for it to work we actually need all the pack to be here.”

Scott suddenly light up.

“I know who has the most experience with it and can help us!” he exclaimed, pulling his phone out.

He dialed Derek's number.

Stiles peered over Derek's shoulder in disbelief and indeed Scott's name was displayed.

“Put it on speaker,” he requested.

The werewolf looked at him searchingly.

“Are you sure?” he checked.

“Yeah,” Stiles smiled slightly.

Derek sighed deeply and accepted the call.

“What?” he barked in his usual grumpy fashion.

Stiles had to stifle his giggle.

“Heeey, Derek,” Scott drawled. “How are you? We're fine, thank you. Nice of you to ask.”

“What do you want?” Derek demanded.

“Okay, no small talk, jeez,” the Alpha sighed. “We need you in Beacon Hills. Can you come?”

“Why?” Derek asked, worried. “What happened?”

Did they have a new super villain monster to fight off and needed reinforcements? Something happened to someone from the pack? Did the Sheriff got hurt?

“Stiles disappeared about two weeks ago and we can't find him,” Scott said.

Derek internally sighed in relief. Nothing to worry about then, and make most than likely an unnecessary trip.

“We need your help in tracking him down,” the Alpha continued.

Stiles scoffed.

“Sorry,” Derek shrugged. “I can't help you in this case.”

“Why?” the Alpha questioned.

“Why would I?”

Scott growled. Derek smirked.

“What was that?” the older werewolf asked.

“After everything we've been through I thought you would care what happened to him!” the Alpha raged. “Apparently I was wrong. Fine! Sit there and do nothing!”

Scott hung up before Derek could say a word.

“Wow,” Stiles mused.

“Yeah,” the werewolf tossed his phone to the side and started the movie. “For once let's do, what the Alpha said – sit here and do nothing.”

Stiles chuckled and settled back comfortably against Derek's side.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was sooo hot I could barely think when I started to write this chapter therefore it's plot is what it is. With extra length.
> 
> Enjoy.

“Derek,” Stiles whined. “It's hot.”

The werewolf shoot him an unimpressed glare and went back to reading his book.

Stiles sighed and shifted to starfish himself on the cooler part of the floor.

It was almost a week after Scott's phone call and almost as long after the wave of heat came over to settle over New York. The kind of 37-degrees*-in-a-shadow hot, the kind I-won't-do-anything-because-it's-too-hot hot and Stiles was dying. The blinds were pulled down to keep the sun away and the air conditioning was working on the maximum capacity. Though it was undoubtedly one from the top shelves, considering it was in an expensive apartment, the air conditioning could only do so much considering this heatwave. It was just about ten degrees cooler, than the temperature outside.

“Derek!” the teenager groaned.

Derek sighed.

“Go take a shower,” he suggested.

“I had three already,” Stiles pointed out.

“Go to the pool, then,” was the next suggestion.

Because of course the building had it's own pool in the basement. The teenager spend a whole day in the water once he found out about this.

“Too crowded,” Stiles bemoaned.

There was silence and Stiles sighed mournfully, shifting to another cool path on the floor.

“How come you're not hot?” the teenager squinted at the werewolf.

Derek shoot him another unimpressed glare, pointedly carding his hand through his damp from sweat hair.

“I try not to think about it,” he growled. “And you're not helping.”

Stiles huffed.

“Is there any ice left?” he wondered.

“I doubt that,” Derek replied.

“Ice cream?” Stiles questioned hopefully.

“You ate the last of it about two hours ago,” the werewolf informed.

The teenager made a noise of complaint.

“You can always go and buy more,” Derek pointed out with a sudden smirk.

“In this heat?” Stiles looked at him incredulously. “They melt in ten seconds. I ten seconds after them.”

“There's this thing called a cooler bag,” Derek stated. “It'll be enough for the fifteen minutes it will take you to get back home.”

“Dude! There is no way I'm walking to the store!” Stiles protested.

“There is no way you will take the car,” the werewolf countered. “It's too hot for being stuck in a traffic in a car.”

Stiles grumbled.

“Fine, whatever!” he surrendered. It wasn't like he had something else to do, so the walk would be a nice distraction. Even in this boiling temperature. “It'll be your fault, if I get a heat stroke.”

Derek made an uninterested noise.

The teenager sighed and stood up. He went to the kitchen and checked the fridge and cupboards, wanting to make a mental list of things to buy. Everything seemed okay.

“I did groceries in the morning, when there was still cool enough to be outside,” Derek said from behind him.

“Fuck!” Stiles yelled, jumping in surprise. “Don't do that! Jesus Christ, and you were doing so great in not being creepy.”

Derek chuckled, affectionately nuzzling his neck for a second as he passed him on his way to the storage room.

“Cooling packs are in the freezer,” he said, taking the bag from the storage.

Stiles pulled them out and put them in the bag.

“If you don't come back in 45 minutes, I'm starting a search,” Derek added.

“Aww, you're so sweet,” Stiles grinned. “I'll try not to get into any troubles.”

The werewolf nodded and went back to reading his book. Stiles checked if he had everything and left.

Despite the heat, the walk wasn't so bad. The store was pleasantly cool inside, and by the freezers Stiles even felt a little cold. He spend a few minutes, contemplating his choice of ice cream, while it got darker in the store. He didn't gave it much thought, thinking it's still that weird effect of walking into room out of the bright sunlight. Finally he took his and Derek's favorite brand, paid and walked out.

The air was so stuffy, he barely could breathe and there were clouds in the sky. Dark, stormy, intimidating clouds. Stiles swore and started the trek back to the apartment. He was still about ten minutes away when it started to drizzle, which quickly went through the simple rain to full out downpour.

He was completely soaked through when he finally reached the apartment building. He went in and shook himself from the excess of water in the foyer, before making his way to the elevator.

“Mr. Stilinski!” the receptionist's call stopped him.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, walking closer to the counter.

“I have some mail for Mr. Hale,” the receptionist informed. “Would you be so kind and deliver it to him?”

“Sure,” Stiles took proffered mail and headed to the elevator.

Once it was moving to the top floor, he checked through the envelopes. One bill. One probably some kind of advertisement. And one from Beacon Hills High School. Stiles frowned at it. Why would Derek get a mail from his school?

He exited the elevator and walked into apartment.

Derek was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed on his chest and a smirk on his face.

“Are you cool enough now?” he asked.

Stiles blinked at him in bewilderment. Then he remembered he was wet.

“You jerk!” the teenager yelled. “You knew it was going to rain! Fucking werewolf senses!”

Derek laughed and stepped up to him.

“There's a towel on the hanger next to you,” he said, taking the bag and mail from Stiles and walking to the kitchen.

The teenager grumbled, dried himself up and went to take a shower and change into dry clothes. The wet ones he put in the washer, went through the laundry basket to load more things and turned the machine on. Then he came back downstairs, loaded a portion of the ice cream into the bowl and joined Derek on the couch, whom was reading the letters.

The werewolf eyed him suspiciously.

“Won't you get sick?” he questioned.

“Nah,” Stiles waved him off. “I'll be fine.” He gestured at the letters, “Why did you get a letter from my school?”

“Ah,” Derek's lips twitched. “I hoped to keep it hidden from you and surprise you later. There are no chances of it happening now, I guess?”

“Nope!” the teenager grinned. “Tell me.”

“Promise not to tell anyone else,” the werewolf demanded.

Stiles nodded seriously.

“I promise,” he declared.

“So, you know one of the things I had to take care in New York was to settle matters with my university,” Derek commented.

Stiles nodded. He went with Derek to the campus. He was surprised to learn, that Derek finished his degree online in the past year and for the life of him he couldn't make the werewolf spill what was his major, so he finally dropped it. Derek spend some time filling out the paperwork and then showed Stiles around the campus.

“Well,” Derek licked his lips and handed Stiles the letter.

The teenager read it. It was an acceptance for a position of the English teacher. Starting this year. In his school. Derek was going to be a teacher in his school.

“Awesome!” Stiles breathed, grinning widely. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” the werewolf smiled.

“Oh my God, the pack!” Stiles exclaimed. “I can't wait to see their faces! This is going to be so awesome! It's–” he paused, realizing something. “You will be my teacher,” he stated.

“Yes,” Derek answered, amused.

Stiles groaned, hanging his head in defeat. He won't be able to date Derek until he graduates!

“You sure do know how to make a guy wait for you,” the teenager grumbled.

Derek cursed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * in Celsius


	22. Chapter 22

After the storm the temperature dropped to a more normal one for summer. They spend a whole next day outside the apartment. After that Stiles committed himself to help Derek create a teaching plan for his classes despite the werewolf's protest, that he could do it by himself and Stiles shouldn't waste his vacation on school stuff. The teenager waved him off and went off on a research binge. If he couldn't date Derek straight away after he turned eighteen, then he will make sure Derek would be the best teacher he and Beacon Hills High School had. Not, that he didn't think the werewolf wouldn't be the best anyway. Stiles was just so excited, he had to do something.

Derek sighed and relented, seeing Stiles was happy enough to do what he did best.

So some days later, Stiles was hogging the laptop, researching one of the novels Derek wanted to get through in class, when the alarm about incoming connection on the Skype sounded. The teenager kept the application turned on while he worked, hoping to talk to Cora when she would be available. He checked the notification. It wasn't Cora.

“Uh, Derek?” Stiles called to the napping werewolf. “Derek.”

“What?” the werewolf mumbled sleepily.

“There's a call for you,” Stiles informed and accepted the connection. “Hi, Jackson,” he chirped once a very familiar face showed up in the conversation window.

“Stilinski?” Jackson looked taken aback, then he frowned, obviously checking he called the right contact. “What are you doing there?”

Stiles shrugged.

“It's complicated,” he answered. “How are you?”

Jackson squinted at him suspiciously.

“Fine,” he settled on. “Where is Derek? I need to talk to him.”

“He's being lazy, apparently,” Stiles looked at the werewolf still sprawled on the couch and not moving. “Derek!”

“What does he want?” the former Alpha sat up with a sigh and stretched.

Stiles raised an eyebrow at Jackson, a hundred percent sure he heard the question. The former kanima huffed.

“Well, me and a couple of my friends,” Jackson paused for a second, expecting a jibe from Stiles about him having friends, but the teenager stayed quiet, waiting expectantly. “We went visit the Hadrian's Wall and, well, we saw a ghost.”

Stiles' eyes light up.

“A real ghost?” he asked excitedly.

“Yes,” Jackson growled, irritated his words were questioned.

“Is it dangerous?” Derek asked, sitting beside Stiles on the sofa. All pressed into his side, since there wasn't much space.

“We learned, that this ghost is causing some problems for the locals,” Jackson reported, raising his eyebrows at their proximity. “Nobody here dealt with one before, so we don't know what to expect. Or do.”

“Me neither,” Derek said.

“I can look into it,” Stiles offered.

“Stiles,” the older werewolf growled warningly.

“A ghost, Derek!” the teenager exclaimed, looking at Derek imploringly. “I want to help.”

Derek stared him down disapprovingly, but Stiles held his gaze. He wasn't passing up an opportunity to deal with a real ghost.

“I would really appreciate it,” Jackson said politely, cautiously breaking their staring contest. Something was wrong, he could tell.

“See?” Stiles smiled. “I want to help. I know you're worried I'm doing this because some sort of an obligation to the pack. But I'm not. I mean, for Jackson? Really?”

“That's not the problem,” Derek shook his head. “The problem is it's a spirit.”

“O-oh,” Stiles stuttered in understanding, but he quickly pulled himself together. “That's totally different. And I can handle it.”

He and the werewolf engaged in another staring contest.

“Derek?” the teenager finally broke the tense silence.

“If you want,” Derek agreed reluctantly.

“Yes,” Stiles smiled happily.

The former kanima narrowed his eyes.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded.

“It's a long story,” Stiles sighed. “Derek can fill you in, while I'll be doing research.” He opened new Word document. “Now, tell me everything.”

After Jackson relayed everything he knew and answered a few questions, Stiles started working and two werewolves engaged in a conversation.

They talked about what they had been up to, how Jackson's pack was doing and other trivial things. Stiles chimed in occasionally or asked additional question related to his research. Then Derek, after he got permission from the teenager under his protection, told Jackson how Stiles found himself in New York with Derek.

It took a few hours, Derek made Stiles take small breaks and longer one to eat dinner, but he finally had some things for Jackson ready. He called Deaton for a quick confirmation on his findings. The Vet even provided some more information and references. Stiles searched them as well and shortly after send all of this to the former kanima.

Jackson listened with rapt attention as Stiles went over his conclusions.

“Thank you,” he said, once Stile was done. “We'll get on that right away. I'll keep you posted.”

With that Jackson logged out of Skype.

“That was fun,” the teenager grinned in satisfaction.

“Good job,” Derek ruffled his hair.

“Hey!” Stiles protested, batting his hand away. “Movie?”

“Sure.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for keeping you for so long in suspense. Unfortunately updates will be less frequent than before, because it's time for me to start preparing for exam :P

The next day they visited the Museum of Arts for something to do. They didn't really want to do a heavy touring, but they didn't want to spend the day at the apartment either.

When they got back Stiles went to the kitchen to make dinner, while Derek booted up his laptop and seeing his sister available called her on Skype. They chatted for a while as Derek worked a little on his teaching plan. After dinner Stiles cuddled into Derek and took a nap. The werewolf took this opportunity to do some more work without interruption and/or debating on how something should work.

Not that Derek didn't appreciate, that Stiles was helping him. He really did. Stiles was a student, and although Derek was one not that long ago, things change and younger man's perspective on things was helpful and always welcome. He just felt bad, that Stiles was doing schoolwork on vacation when he was supposed to rest. And he was doing schoolwork, literally. Stiles wasn't exactly hiding that, but it took a bit searching on Derek's part to find the folder where Stiles kept drafts for homework the werewolf decided to give his students. Thank God Derek didn't start on tests yet. On the other hand Derek knew the teenager was going to ace this class, what with this whole researching things for the lessons, so maybe Stiles might enjoy making them. Hmm, no, nope. Derek needed to draw a line somewhere.

The werewolf checked the time and decided to give Stiles another twenty minutes.

He finally saved all his documents and nudged the teenager awake.

They went swimming for a while and ordered take out for supper before they went to the apartment. The building they were living in had a thing for all deliveries making as far as reception, without any exceptions. The security wouldn't let anyone go further without the pass.

So they took their time to dry off and trudge the stairs to the ground level for ordered food. They ate it in the kitchen and then relocated to the living room. Stiles went to gather pillows and blankets, while Derek unfolded the couch and choose a few movies to watch. They settled in the nest they build and started the movies.

Derek kept his laptop on the side for better access without really moving, Skype running in case the Sheriff wanted to talk. However the call they got about 10 pm wasn't from the Sheriff.

Jackson showed up on the screen. He looked haggard and tired and he wasn't very pleased with something.

“What happened?” Derek asked.

“Oh my God, is that blood?” Stiles wasn't far behind him.

Jackson sighed.

“I'm fine,” he said. “Everyone is fine. It was just a minor misunderstanding and some of us got a little scraped.”

“The ghost?” Derek guessed.

“Yeah,” Jackson nodded. “We got over your notes, decided on the best strategy taking them into account and went to meet with that ghost. Everything was going fine, the ghost was cooperating with us. Hell, we even had a small talk. But then the local priest showed up and did everything you told us not to do under any circumstances. And I mean every single thing.”

“Oh, boy,” Stiles breathed, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Jackson grimaced. “The ghost went mad, hence the scrapes, but he was reasonable enough, so we negotiated a truce once he calmed down some. The ghost said he agreed to that only because we showed him respect using the old ways dealing with their kind. He got intrigued when he learned we just followed our friend's advice and, well,” the former kanima shrugged guiltily. “He said he won't stick to the truce until he meets you and Deaton.”

“What?!” Derek barked.

Jackson flinched.

“What does it want with me and Deaton?” Stiles asked.

“He said he wanted to talk,” Jackson relayed. “He is missing talking with someone, who knows the old ways as it was centuries since someone with that knowledge was anywhere near the Hadrian's Wall.”

“Out of the question,” Derek growled.

“Derek!” Stiles protested.

“Stiles,” the werewolf countered.

The teenager slumped in defeat.

“Okay,” Stiles sighed. “We'll talk to Deaton and we'll let you know what our decision is sometime in the morning.”

“Okay,” Jackson nodded, watching them carefully.

“Go get some sleep,” Derek suggested. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” the former kanima replied and ended the call.

Stiles opened his mouth to argue.

“We will talk to Deaton,” Derek said, glaring at him. “And then we will decide if it's a good idea for you to go meet the ghost.”

“It's an excellent idea,” the teenager insisted. “But, fine! Have it your way.”

Derek sighed in frustration.

“I don't want you to get hurt,” he explained.

“I said it's fine, Derek,” Stiles gritted through his teeth. “I'm allowed to be excited, because a real ghost wants to talk to me. But I know where your concerns are coming from and I respect that. So, let's call Deaton and see what he has to say on the matter.”


	24. Chapter 24

Turned out, Deaton didn't know.

Oh, he was sure the ghost wasn't really that dangerous, seeing as it didn't kill anybody in its rage and the Vet was actually looking forward to the meeting. But if Stiles could meet the ghost too? Deaton wasn't so sure about that. Stiles' spark was unstable for quite some time after the Nogitsune and his pack didn't help matters, so it was difficult to say how it could react to the presence of a spirit. So Deaton made a suggestion about not risking anything.

Stiles was disheartened at the news.

But Derek, instead of being smug bastard about being right the teenager expected him to be, said that Stiles was doing a lot better and asked the Vet, if he could stop by on his way to England and check on him in person before making any definite conclusions.

Deaton readily agreed and said he'll be taking the earliest flight he could find. Though he warned Stiles to not to get his hopes up.

Not that Stiles even heard him. He was too busy staring at Derek in wonder. He mouthed a 'I love you' when the werewolf raised and eyebrow at him.

Stiles didn't even stir as Derek got up early the next day to go to the airport for Deaton. But when they got back, the teenager was pacing anxiously across the cleaned up apartment.

All it took was one look at the teenager for Deaton to be sure.

“He definitely can go,” the Vet declared, curiously circling around Stiles. “It's amazing.”

“What?” the teenager asked, eyes lighting up in excitement. “Did you just said I can go?”

“That's what I said,” Deaton confirmed.

“Yes!” Stiles fist pumped.

He gave Deaton a quick hug, which stunned the Vet and skipped to Derek jumping at him, making the werewolf catch him, before he slid to the floor.

“You heard that, Derek?” Stiles chattered in his happiness like a five year old, hooking his hands around Derek's neck and wrapping his legs around his waist. “I can go met the ghost!”

Derek sighed fondly and moved forward.

“Yes, I heard,” he replied dropping Stiles not so gently on the couch. “I'll go make some breakfast.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” the teenager scrambled to get up. “You two just sit here and relax. I'll make breakfast. I have everything prepared already, but I didn't make anything, because I wasn't sure when you'll be back.” He turned to Deaton, “Scrambled eggs okay? And coffee? Or tea? We have orange juice too. I bet you prefer tea though. Some herbal kind, since you're a druid and what not. I don't think we have one of those, so coffee okay? Okay,” he disappeared into the kitchen before the Vet had a chance to answer.

Derek was shaking with laughter at the bewildered expression on Deaton's face.

The Vet observed them during breakfast. He was astounded at the level of recovery Stiles achieved in so little time with just one pack member looking after him. But the more he saw them interact, the more he was sure he shouldn't be surprised at all.

Derek and Stiles moved around each other easily, anticipating what the other needs. Kept brushing against each other now and again, scent marking each other. They were comfortable and relaxed in each other's presence. And they both were much happier, than Deaton ever saw them.

Deaton smiled into his cup of coffee. Yes, they were good together indeed.

“Is that a look of realization?” Stiles asked, squinting at the Vet.

Deaton made a questioning noise around his mouthful.

“I don't know,” Derek frowned. “Maybe?”

“Excuse me?” Deaton blinked at them.

“What were you thinking about just now?” Stiles inquired.

“Oh, nothing, really,” the Vet said nonchalantly.

Better let them figure it out by themselves.

Derek raised his eyebrows at him.

“Come on,” Stiles snapped his fingers impatiently. “Out with it.”

Or not.

Deaton sighed.

“I was just wondering about how good mates you are,” he replied.

There was a few seconds of silence, while Deaton cringed inwardly. He really shouldn't told them that. It wasn't his business.

“Ha!” Stiles exclaimed, extending his hand, palm up, and wriggled his fingers. “I won, again!”

Derek huffed and slapped five dollars into his cheek, pushing him away a little.

“Hey!” the teenager protested, chuckling, while he scrambled to catch the falling note.

“What?” Deaton blinked in confusion.

“We're soooo ahead of you, dude,” Stiles smiled at him.

“So you know you're mates?” the Vet checked.

They both nodded.

“Good,” Deaton smiled, pleased. “This is why you're recovering so fast. At least with the supernatural part of the problem.”

“Huh,” Stiles mused. “I didn't think of that.”

“It never came up. I can give you some sources on the matter,” Deaton offered.

“That would be great,” Stiles agreed. “Thank you.”

They finished eating and Stiles cleaned up despite Derek's insistence. Then the teenager bounded for the stairs.

“I'm gonna pack now and we're good to go,” he threw over his shoulder.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Derek asked.

Stiles stopped, turning to him curiously. He went through his mental list of things necessary for the trip to London, while the werewolf waited patiently for him to figure it out.

“No?” he hazarded.

Derek held out Stiles' phone.

“Your father?” the werewolf suggested.

Stiles slumped with a groan.


	25. Chapter 25

The Sheriff was cheerful, considering the early hour. The fact, that Scott, Kira and Malia were scheduled to start their shift with him at five in the morning could be the main factor contributing to his good humor. Especially Scott, whom was free for a few days while Deaton was away somewhere.

He and Parrish decided to reassign the pack to other tasks for a few days to allow the pile of paperwork to grow back. Not that it was getting smaller anyway, but still... The other deputies would appreciate that too. Nobody had the time to do coffee runs or to run back and forth for files from archive they needed. Or type notes into the computer files. Or clean up a bit. Yes, the Sheriff made sure his men will use the presence of the pack to maximum. Until another two deputies arrive. Which, coincidentally, is a week before summer ends.

John watched smugly as the teenagers trudged in. They moved slowly, still half asleep. Well, Scott and Kira did. Not Malia.

Malia was completely alert and energetic. Just as she always was before a hunt or taking a bad guy.

Scott was stumbling around, alternatively blinking and rubbing his eyes, trying to stay awake.

Kira was slightly more awake than the Alpha, though she was hiding her yawning behind her hand.

"Good morning," the Sheriff greeted them cheerfully.

Scott squinted at him suspiciously through his yawn.

"There should be coffee in the break room," John declared. "If not, make a fresh pot. And check once in a while if there's need to make a new one. There are a few cells to clean up. Also files from the archives need to be delivered to whomever wanted them. And some of the men have reports I need to read or paperwork for me to sign, so bring them to me with coffee. You're free to go at twelve. Have a nice day," with that he went into his office.

Scott and Kira moved desperately to the break room only to let out pitiful whines as they saw the empty coffee pot. Malia rolled her eyes at them and set to prepare a fresh pot.

Fifteen minutes later properly caffeinated teenagers got to work.

The Sheriff was finishing his yesterday's report when his phone chirped. He glanced at it to see who was calling him. He picked it up when he saw it was Stiles.

"Hey, son," John greeted after he picked up.

"Hi, dad," Stiles chirped. "How are you?"

"I'm good, lots of work and the day just started," the Sheriff hummed. "You and Derek?"

"Oh, we're fine," Stiles assured. "We're great. Fantastic. Spectacular."

"Mhm," John agreed. "What do you want?"

"Nothing much, really," the teenager said nonchalantly. "I just called to let you know we're going to England to meet a ghost."

"You're going where to do what?!" the Sheriff yelled.

Scott, who was heading to Mr. Stilinski's office with paperwork and coffee paused and focused his hearing.

"England," Stiles repeated. "To meet a ghost."

Scott held his breath. It was Stiles' voice! He quickly looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to him and inched forward to hear better.

"Stiles," the Sheriff sighed. "You were supposed to stay away from trouble."

"There won't be any troubles," Stiles insisted. "Deaton said I'm okay to go. And you know–"

Someone cleared their throat behind Scott. Loudly.

The Alpha jumped, whirling around, barely refraining himself from shifting due to this surprising interruption.

Parrish stared at him, unimpressed.

Scott ducked his head sheepishly.

"It's just," the True Alpha tried. "It's Stiles calling. I just wanted–"

Parrish narrowed his eyes, yanked the files from Scott's hand and walked into Sheriff's office without bothering to knock.

"Scott's listening in," he informed, dropping the papers on the desk.

John stopped whatever he was saying and glared at Scott through the open door.

The Alpha scurried away guiltily.

“Dad? Dad! Dad!” Stiles was calling worriedly.

“Sorry, son,” the Sheriff sighed, nodding gratefully at Parrish. “We had an eavesdropper.”

“Uh, what?” the teenager questioned in confusion.

“Scott was listening to us talk,” John clarified. “Parrish busted him just now.”

“Oh,” Stiles breathed. “Tell him hi and thank you.”

“I will,” The Sheriff closed his eyes. “Be safe, okay? All three of you.” 

“We will, dad,” Stiles promised. “Thanks. And you be safe, too.” 

“Of course,” John smiled. “Keep me posted. Bye, I love you.”

“I love you too, bye,” Stiles replied and ended the call.

The Sheriff looked at Parrish still standing in his office.

“Ghost,” he snorted. “In England.”

Parrish raised his eyebrows.

“Do you think it's one of the Knights of the Round Table?” he asked eagerly.

John groaned and threw a pencil at him, which Parrish dodged with a laugh.

 


	26. Chapter 26

Scott went back to his work dutifully avoiding Parrish and the Sheriff just in case. In that time he carefully mulled over the bits of knowledge he managed to acquire.

Stiles kept in touch with Deaton. It made sense, considering the nature of Stiles' problems. Still the Alpha couldn't help but resent his friend a little for that. Why Stiles was talking about his problems with Deaton and not with him? Ultimately Scott is the solution to this, not Deaton. So Stiles should come to the source. There was also some resentment toward the Vet himself. Deaton was his Emissary and he should tell him about Stiles' situation, not keep the location of a member of his pack a secret. He was an Alpha, dammit! He needed to know this things.

Stiles was going to England. Scott was excited for a while, because he finally knew where his best friend would be in the next few days. He quickly deflated however as he realized, that he didn't know specifically where in England Stiles would be. The Alpha already made plans of asking Lydia to rope Jackson into finding Stiles, but though England is not as big as United States it's still big enough for it to be impossible. Maybe they could track Deaton's cellphone?

Stiles was going to see a ghost. They were real? What if it was a bad ghost? What if it will possess Stiles like the Nogitsune? What if it kills Stiles?

Scott shook his head. There was no point in running through 'what if' scenarios. He and the pack wouldn't be able to do anything from here. Besides Deaton would be there. He surely will be enough as a backup for Stiles if something goes wrong.

“Scott!” Kira punched him in the arm.

The Alpha blinked at her.

“What?” he asked in confusion.

“Are you alright? I was trying to get you attention for a few minutes now,” Kira said carefully.

“Oh, sorry,” Scott rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I was just lost in thoughts. Can I help you with something?”

“We're done for the day,” Kira stated.

“Oh,” Scott looked at the clock.

He was so absorbed in his musings, he didn't notice when all of that time passed.

“Is Malia still here?” the Alpha asked. “Are Lydia and Liam here already?”

“They are with Parrish,” Kira nodded. “Malia is waiting outside for us.”

“I need to tell you something,” Scott decided. “Let's find the rest.”

They made their way from the archives to the main room. Scott looked around in search of his pack members and saw Lydia and Liam coming towards him. He also saw the Sheriff leaving his office and going to one of the interrogation rooms. The office was left open and Scott had a clear, tempting view of the Sheriff's cellphone.

He turned to Kira, who watched him worriedly.

“Can you do me a favor and bring Malia back?” Scott asked her quietly, covertly checking if he had clear way for the Sheriff's office. “Then all of you meet me in the break room in a few minutes.”

Kira looked like she wanted to argue, but instead nodded and intercepted Lydia and Liam, talking to them quietly.

Scott snuck into the office and locked the door. He grabbed the phone and accessed the contact list. He was scrolling through the contacts starting with a S finding only the number he already knew wasn't working, when the phone buzzed, M. Stilinski flashing across the screen. Scott almost dropped the phone in surprise. Of course Mr. Stilinski wouldn't keep Stiles' new number under 'son' or 'Stiles' when he tried to hide it.

Scott saw Stiles' first name only once and didn't remember anything about it besides it beginning with a M, so he was reasonably sure it was Stiles calling. He wouldn't ever think about searching the contacts under M.

The Alpha grinned and accepted the call, happy he finally get to talk to his best friend.

“Hey, dad,” Stiles said as soon as the call connected. “So, we have an hour bef–“

“Stiles,” Scott cleared his throat. “It's me, Scott.”

There was a clatter on the other end, a few unrecognizable voices and then the line went dead.


	27. Chapter 27

Derek jerked his head up as Stiles' heartbeat suddenly speed up.

Sitting beside him Deaton glanced at him curiously.

The teenager was a few paces away for some privacy while he talked to his father on the phone, which crashed on floor now. Stiles was pale and started hyperventilating, staring at Derek with terrified expression on his face.

The werewolf jumped to his feet and in two seconds was by Stiles' side.

“What happened?” he demanded, rubbing Stiles' arms comfortingly.

At this point a worried Deaton was also out of his seat, but didn't made a move towards them.

The teenager pointed trembling finger at the cell.

“Scott,” he gasped out.

Derek cursed and bend down to pick the phone and ended the call.

He spend almost all the time they were preparing for this trip reassuring Stiles, that although Scott was eavesdropping and most likely knew where they were going, there was no way the Alpha would show up. That nobody would allow him or anyone else from the pack to leave Beacon Hills for a trip to England. That even if he were to somehow reach England, he wouldn't find them anyway, because he didn't know where exactly they were going.

“It's going to be fine, Stiles,” he soothed, steering the teenager to the chair.

He passed the phone to the Vet.

“Get rid of it, please,” the werewolf requested.

Deaton nodded and vanished from sight.

Derek sat Stiles down on the empty chair and crouched between his legs.

“Come on, Stiles, you need to calm down and breathe,” he coached. “Just like the last time, okay?”

Stiles had a few panic attacks during his stay in New York. They were triggered mostly by his nightmares, but the attacks happened also because someone did or said something. Derek quickly learned to help the teenager to go through them.

The teenager nodded and leaned forward into Derek. The werewolf rocked back on his heels in surprise, but quickly found his balance and got up, pulling Stiles with him. He sat down and placed the teenager in his lap. Stiles wrapped himself around him, still trying to calm down while Derek rubbed his back soothingly.

“What if–“ Stiles wheezed. “What if something happened to my dad?”

Well, Derek didn't think about that possibility. How stupid of him.

“I'm sure he's fine,” he reassured, wriggling a little to pull his phone out of his pocket. “He was with Parrish earlier, right? We can call him and ask.”

“You have Parrish's number?” Stiles asked curiously, leaning back to look at him.

“I figured it might come in handy someday,” Derek explained. “Do you want me to call?”

“Please,” Stiles nodded, calmer now.

“Okay,” Derek said.

He selected the contact and held the phone in a way, which allowed them both to hear the conversation.

“Parrish,” was barked from the other end of the line a few rings later.

In the background they could hear the police siren.

Stiles tensed immediately, painfully digging his fingers into Derek's shoulders.

“Hi,” the werewolf greeted. “It's Derek Hale. I'm calling on behalf–“

“Is he okay?” Parrish demanded at once.

“He's fine,” Derek replied. “He's just worried about his father.”

“The Sheriff is fine,” Parrish said. “I just saw him a minute ago. Why?”

Stiles sighed in relief, slumping against Derek.

“Why the sirens?” he asked.

“I'm responding to the emergency call,” Parrish answered, slightly amused. “Why didn't you call your father?”

“I did,” Stiles grumbled.

“Scott picked up,” Derek added.

Parrish cursed.

“That little–“ he took a deep breath. “Sorry. I can't really do anything right now, though.”

“That's fine,” Derek assured him. “Can you let the Sheriff know, that if he wants to contact Stiles he should call me for the time being? Stiles had to ditch his phone and we have only a little under an hour before our flight.”

“I will,” Parrish promised. “However I'm not sure if I'll manage to talk to him before your take off. When you'll be available later?”

“In about six, seven hours,” the werewolf estimated.

“Six or seven hours,” Parrish repeated. “Got it. I have to go. Have a nice flight.”

“Be safe,” Stiles requested.

“I will. Bye”

“Thanks,” Derek said. “Bye.”

He ended the call and looked at the teenager.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Much,” Stiles sighed, snuggling closer. “Nap time.”

Derek huffed, but made himself comfortable and held Stiles while he rested until it was time for them to board the plane.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, that it took me so long to update. I didn't really had the time and my inspiration ran dry. I don't know when the next update will be, but I'll do my best to upload new chapter once a week.  
> And I'm sorry for those who are waiting for more on Derek and Stiles - I need to somewhat wrap up what's happening in Beacon Hills, so they won't be in two more chapters or so.
> 
> Enjoy.

"Stiles? Stiles. Stiles!" Scott cried into the phone uselessly.

Oh God, what should he do now?

What if Stiles was in trouble? He didn't sound like he was, but what if he was attacked just as they were talking? It was possible and explained why the line was cut off so suddenly.

Or Stiles didn't want to talk to him, the treacherous part of Scott's brain supplied.

The Alpha quickly erased that thought and clenched his jaw determinedly. There was no way, that his friend wouldn't even want to talk to him when he had the opportunity. Sure, he ran away to God knows where, but it was weeks ago and surely they could talk to each other if they happened to be on the same phone-call. Even just so Stiles could yell at Scott for his stupid mistakes.

Yeah, the rational part of the True Alpha's brain mocked, why wouldn't he want to talk to you after everything you've done to him, hm?

Scott sighed. He needed to be level-headed now. Proceed with caution. He acted rashly once and it turned into disaster. He refused to make that mistake again.

Scott took a sheet from the small notebook laying on the desk and copied Stiles' number down. Then he folded the paper and put it into his pocket. He returned Sheriff's phone back to it's place and carefully slipped out of the office.

The Alpha headed to the break room, where his pack was supposed to wait for him. When he reached his destination he found Kira, Lydia, Malia and Liam sitting around the table and sipping coffee. The young beta saw him firs as he was sitting facing the door and waved his greetings.

“Hi, guys,” Scott greeted them, shutting the door behind him and coming around the table so all of his friends could see him. “I have some news about Stiles.”

Everyone straightened immediately giving the Alpha their full attention.

“Well?” Lydia prompted when Scott didn't say anything for a minute. “Hurry up, some of us should be working right now.”

“Right,” Scott cleared his throat. “So, earlier I accidentally heard a fragment of the call the Sheriff had with Stiles. Apparently he and Deaton are going to England to deal with a ghost.”

“Ghost?” Kira frowned.

“They're real?” Liam asked curiously.

“Where in England?” Lydia demanded.

The Alpha held up a hand.

“Yes, a ghost and it seems they are real. I don't know where exactly. I didn't hear any specifics before Parrish caught me.”

They sighed in disappointment.

“Anyway,” Scott continued. “I took the opportunity to snuck into Sheriff's office to get Stiles' new number. At the same time Stiles called. I couldn't help it and I picked up, but the line cut off almost immediately and I'm not sure if he was in trouble or he didn't want to talk to me.”

“You picked Stiles' call for the Sheriff,” Lydia groaned. “Are you crazy?!”

“I just wanted to talk to him!” Scott defended himself.

“And now your hard acquired phone number is most likely useless,” the Banshee pointed out. “He changed his phone so we couldn't contact him in the first place. What makes you think he won't do this again now?”

The Alpha opened his mouth several times, but he couldn't find any excuses.

“I didn't think of that,” he finally admitted.

“Obviously,” Lydia huffed. “Give me the number. I'll track it–“

“Um, guys?” Liam interrupted nervously.

They looked at the young beta. He was pale and his wide eyes were fixated on the entrance. They followed his gaze and flinched at the pissed off expression on Sheriff's face.

“Hand it over,” John demanded in a deceptively calm tone of voice, extending his hand.

Scott knew he was screwed and he didn't want to make his situation even worse, so he hurriedly scrambled to obey, clumsily wrestling the sheet out of his pocket. It would be hilarious if the situation wasn't so tense. He put his hand with the paper out in front of him and took a few cautious steps forward to dispose the paper on Sheriff's palm, keeping as far away from the man as he could.

The Sheriff unfolded the paper to make sure it contained the number and shredded it into tiny pieces, which he put into his pocket.

“There won't be any tracking,” John stated. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir!” the pack agreed quickly.

“Now, Liam, Lydia, go to work,” John ordered. “The rest of you, get out. I don't want to see any of you around today.”

“Yes, sir!” the pack replied.

They jumped to their feet and fled the scene.


	29. Chapter 29

Scott went straight home from his shift, hoping to have a small nap before his date with Kira later and a pack meeting after that. What he didn't count on was his mother being home and clearly waiting for him with a stern expression on her face and anger radiating from her in waves.

Scott gulped. A sudden supernatural disaster never seemed so appealing than right this moment.

“Hi, mom,” he tried, grinning.

She glared at him, completely unimpressed by his efforts.

“I, um,” Scott stuttered, “I can explain?”

“Explain?!” Ms. McCall yelled. “Explain?! You don't go through someone's phone and pick up calls for them without permission! Especially when you were made aware, that your involvement is not welcome at the time!”

“I just wanted to talk to Stiles,” the Alpha whined plaintively. “To make sure he's alright.”

“Well, he's not!” Melissa informed. “Stiles called Parrish to check in and Jordan said he probably had a panic attack, when you picked up instead of John.” She pointed a finger at his son, “Because of you Stiles thought something happened to his father. You made him unnecessarily worried about the Sheriff, when he should be focusing on getting better himself!”

Scott winced.

“I didn't mean to,” he offered weakly.

Ms. McCall sighed.

“Didn't you?” she asked more calmly. “Are you really sure? Because you keep making the situation worse. What's wrong with you? Is this a werewolf thing? An Alpha thing?”

“No!” Scott protested and then thought better of it. “I don't know. Maybe? I'm just worried about Stiles. I need to know where he is and if he's alright.”

“Do you now?” Melissa squinted at him dubiously. “You certainly didn't before.”

The Alpha flinched.

“I think it's stronger because Stiles is away,” Scott tried to explain. “From Beacon Hills. From us. While he was here I could check up on him anytime I wanted, so...” he shrugged.

“First,” the nurse listed, “you didn't care to check on him while he was here.”

Scott looked at his feet in shame.

“Second,” Ms. McCall continued, “you didn't even notice he wasn't in Beacon Hills for two weeks, so I'm calling bullshit on this caring Alpha thing.”

She raised her hand as Scott opened his mouth to protest.

“You need to figure this out, son,” Melissa ordered. “And fast.”

Scott nodded along.

“I will, mom, I swear.”

“Good,” Melissa ruffled his hair. “Now, I have to go back to work. John said you start at five again tomorrow and,” she narrowed her eyes at Scott, “you will accept whatever John decided to give you for your punishment. Then you will come to the hospital. I volunteered you for a few hours there, too.”

The Alpha swallowed a groan, lest he would make his situation worse.

“Okay, mom,” he agreed.

Ms. McCall gathered her things and stepped to the door. She turned back to look at her son.

“I would cancel your date and the meeting today, if I were you,” she said with a sharp smile that promised a vicious retribution, if the Alpha was to disobey her. “You have all of that thinking to do after all, don't you?”

“Of course!” Scott agreed quickly, grimacing internally.

He so looked forward to spend some time alone with Kira and then to discuss the Stiles situation with the pack.

“Oh, and it was so nice of you to volunteer to make dinner today. It would be nice to have hot meal waiting for me when I get back home from my shift,” Melissa mused pointedly. “I even invited John.”  
Scott swallowed, paling slightly.

“We'll be home around seven,” Ms. McCall said and left.

The Alpha leaned against the wall, groaning in defeat. He stayed like that for a few minutes to gather his thoughts and then pulled his phone out.

First he composed a text to Lydia, carefully typing in Stiles' number from memory for her to track down. He took a special care to remember it just in case while he was writing it down. He just couldn't take the chance of loosing it somewhere. It was too important.

After that he called Kira to explain the situation to her.

“Oh, you poor thing,” the kitsune cooed at him, when Scott ended recounting his punishment. “I can help you with dinner, if you want.”

“I would love to,” the Alpha sighed. “I really would, but if someone caught you here it just would make things much worse.”

“I guess you're right,” Kira agreed. “What about the pack meeting? Are you canceling that too?”

“No,” Scott shook his head. “I send Lydia the number to track. You should meet and discuss our options. You can fill me in tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Kira said. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah,” Scott sighed mournfully. “See you tomorrow.”

“Aww, poor baby,” Kira laughed. “Good luck with dinner.”

“Thanks,” the Alpha grimaced into the phone. “I'll definitely need it.”

“Bye, Scott,” the kitsune singsonged and hung up.

Scott sighed, dropped his phone on the couch and went to the kitchen to figure out what to make for dinner.


End file.
